


Randonautica

by aesoprock



Category: South Park
Genre: Camping, Cemetery, Character Death, Childhood Trauma, College, Crime, Cults, Drug Themes, Eating Disorders, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Homophobia, Investigations, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Minor Character Death, Missing Persons, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Randonautica, Sexism, Slow Burn - kinda, Suicide, Trauma, other characters are not tagged
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 57,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25978948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesoprock/pseuds/aesoprock
Summary: A group of college students decide to download an app.After one of their findings, they collectively decide that it's not a game anymore.VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV((if you've been reading this for a while please check the tags/warnings!!))
Relationships: Bebe Stevens/Wendy Testaburger (minor), Kenny McCormick/Craig Tucker (minor), Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Wendy Testaburger/Eric Cartman (minor)
Comments: 113
Kudos: 101





	1. Location One - The Cornfield

“Want me to invite Craig?” Kyle asked, stretching his legs out as he lounged on the bed.

Stan laid next to him, still in his pajamas, frowning. “Craig’s a dick, dude. He’ll just go on and on about… how it’s fake or whatever. If you ask, he probably won’t even go with you.”

“Well, you want to bring fucking Cartman! Cartman is way worse than Craig, you just don’t want Craig to go because when you guys met, he-”

“I can fucking hear you!” Cartman yelled from the bathroom. He stopped the faucet and opened the bathroom door, a few red marks on his face. “Shut up, Kahl. Maybe I won’t drive you guys around after all.”

Eric Cartman was the only guy in their student living complex with a working car full of gas, which meant Stan and Kyle kind of _had_ to invite him if they wanted to go exploring on that stupid app. Stan found it scrolling through social media late one night, procrastinating the millions of essays he had to write and tests he probably needed to study for, and was immediately intrigued. Then he read the stories surrounding it, ended up downloading TikTok, and essentially fell into the Randonautica hole. The two of them were bored out of their minds, with nothing to distract themselves with aside from schoolwork, so why not download the app and have a look around? Even if it led to nothing, it would be fun to go on some type of ‘adventure’ anyway. Better than sitting around and feeling bad about not doing college essays.

“Whatever,” Kyle hissed. “I’m inviting Craig. He has money for food.”

“Cartman has money for food too, dude. I don’t get why you like Craig so much.”

Kyle stood up. “Craig won’t rub my debt to him in my face. And plus, Craig is actually cool.” He pulled a hoodie over his pajama shirt and picked up his phone from the bedside table. 

“Yes he will,” Stan said, pausing. “You don’t need a jacket, Kyle.”

He shook his head furiously as he texted Craig, asking him if he wanted to go with them. “What if it rains? I’ll take it off if it gets too hot.”

“Yeah, then you’ll make me carry it,” Stan muttered under his breath.

“So you’re gonna wear a hoodie and booty shorts if it rains?” Cartman snickered from the hallway. “I don’t see why you fags want to go at night. We don’t even have flashlights, we’ll just get lost.”

Both of them ignored Cartman’s comment. Stan stood up and started to get dressed, running his fingers through his hair in a last ditch attempt to make himself look presentable. “Trying to look good for your boyfriend?” Cartman urged, trying to get any kind of reaction out of him.

“At least Stan _can_ look good sometimes, unlike you,” Kyle snapped back. “Okay. I’m ready.” He shoved a pair of earbuds and a portable charger in his hoodie pocket, before turning to look at Cartman. “We’re picking up Craig at his house before we go anywhere else.”

Cartman rolled his eyes and returned to what he was doing in the bathroom. “Psh. Still lives with his parents.”

“I’d rather live with my parents than pay for rent and food,” Kyle snapped. “He’s lucky. And smart for living with them.”

Cartman closed the bathroom door, muttering things under his breath as he resumed his obsessive pimple popping.

-

Cartman parked in the driveway, watching as Craig hopped into the passenger’s seat. Stan and Kyle had decided to sit in the back together. “What is this… app?” Craig asked, turning to look at Kyle.

“Something Stan found last Wednesday. Uh, it takes you to a random location. People have found dead bodies with it,” he explained, hoping that they would find something at least mildly interesting when they did decide to use it. Stan told him about the case in Seattle, and although he was skeptical, it did seem weird.

Nodding, Craig narrowed his eyes and turned to Stan. “And why are we doing this?”

“Stan doesn’t want to write his essay on genetically modified plants,” Kyle teased. Stan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, slouching against the window.

“Cool.” Craig turned back to the front of the car.

Kyle gestured for Stan to open the app. He pulled out his phone, sending the location and tapping _I agree._ “Oh, shit,” Stan paused, stopping when it asked what kind of location point he wanted.

Kyle shook his head. “Just hit random shit, dude. I don’t think it matters which one you pick, I don’t even know what a fucking… entropy is.”

He tapped random “shit” on the screen as Kyle instructed, and pulled up the final location in Maps. “Okay. I have the location.”

“Don’t we need flashlights first?” Cartman asked, turning around to look at them.

“Yeah. We should do that, if we just use our phones they’ll die.”

Cartman turned the engine back on. The four of them went to a gas station, where Kyle, Stan and Craig were sent in to get food and flashlights, and Cartman stayed back to fill up his car.

Once everybody was back in the car and on the road, Stan pulled the location up again. “It looks like… uh, take a left, Cartman.”

“It looks like what?” Kyle asked, leaning over his shoulder to see. The location was a building, but it was unlabeled, and out in the countryside. “Hah, that’s creepy. Maybe you’re right, and there’s a serial killer there waiting for us.”

“Dude. I never said we were gonna die, I said it might be fun,” Stan corrected.

Kyle sat back in his seat. “Don’t get butthurt.”

Stan continued to give Cartman directions, and soon enough they arrived at a dead end, the road stopped by a steep hill. Craig groaned. “You never said we would have to exercise.”

“It’s just a small hill, Craig. Come on.” Kyle got out of the car, bending over to grab one of the heavy duty flashlights he had put the batteries in while Cartman drove. He set it on the roof of the car, then grabbed two more.

Kyle, Cartman, and Craig all had flashlights, while Stan stood in the middle of them, staring at his phone. They climbed the hill, rocks and grass crunching underneath their feet as they walked. Denver nights were pretty lukewarm, which made Kyle glad that he hadn’t worn a pair of jeans after all.

“Okay. We, uh, walk farther back, and then take a right.”

The four of them stood at the top of the hill, looking around. “It’s a fucking cornfield, dumbass. There’s no building. Let me see your phone.”

Stan handed his phone to Craig, and sure enough, there was a building past the cornfield.

“Then it’s someone’s house, and they’re growing corn. We’re gonna get shot. I’m not going on private property,” Craig went on.

Stan inhaled. “Let’s just see, okay? If it’s someone’s house, we can explain. We’re not gonna get shot.”

He didn’t have a better argument against Stan, so he kept walking. Silence settled between them as they trudged past cornstalk after cornstalk, and eventually, Stan came to a stop. “Take a right here. It leads to the building.”

“...We’re going through a fucking cornfield to get to this place?” Craig asked, raising an eyebrow. “This is someone’s farm.”

“Let’s just see!” Stan protested, putting his phone back in his pocket. “It’s probably not. There’s not even a driveway. If this is someone’s house, then they’re going up and down the stupid hill just like we are. There would be a trail.”

Craig crossed his arms, sending his flashlight beam sideways. “Then it’s a barn, and all we’re gonna see is some pigs and cows and shit.”

“Stan’s right,” Kyle spoke up, who noticed that Cartman had been unusually quiet from behind him throughout this whole thing. He hadn’t spoken since they got there. “Even if it is a barn, it’ll be cool. It would be like, abandoned. Come on.”

They walked through the cornfield, making their very own small path over the cornstalk they were stepping down on. They came to a clearing, facing an abandoned building as promised. It wasn’t a barn- it looked more like an old factory, yet… smaller. The four of them silently agreed to go in and explore the building.

Craig was the first to enter. With the first step, something cracked underneath him. “What the fuck.” The only light coming through the building was dim streaks of moonlight pouring through cracked, empty windows, and Craig’s flashlight, pointed on the wall opposite of them.

Kyle pointed his flashlight down at the ground to see what Craig had stepped on, his pupils focusing in on the thousands of tiny animal bones littering the factory floor. “Oh, ew.”

Craig went further, trying to avoid the piles of bones the best he could, shining his own flashlight around the dilapidated building. Stan entered next, followed by Cartman, and finally Kyle.

“So what’s up with you? You’re not talking,” Kyle said, nudging Cartman in the shoulder. “Scared?”

He snorted. “Why would I be scared of some animal bones on the floor?”

“Because you’re a puss.”

“I’m not a puss, Kahl.”

A squelching sound came from the far left of them. “There’s a dead animal over here,” Craig informed.

“So like, animals just come here to rot and die, or what? I didn’t see any bones outside of this stupid place,” Kyle wondered out loud, scanning the walls with his flashlight beam. There was the usual teenage graffiti, but he couldn’t understand why so _many_ bones were littering the floor. Some of them were big enough to be human bones, but there were no human skulls or pelvis bones around, and Kyle knew that large animals existed.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, taking in the fact that there was no rotting flesh surrounding the bones. The bones were just… _clean._ As if someone had taken the time to wash them, or at least scrape the meat off of them.

“Simple. A butcher needed somewhere to dump his animal bones,” Cartman spoke.

“Yeah? Do you see any houses around here?” Everyone turned to look at Stan. “That would be really stupid, y’know, if it were a butcher. He would be going out of his way to climb that shitty little hill and walk through the cornfield just to dump off his bones. Butchers have trash cans, you know that, right?”

“Stan’s right. Plus- there were no other trails in this cornfield leading to, um, this house. Or like, whatever the fuck it is.”

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Do you have a better explanation, Kahl?”

“Um.” Kyle pursed his lips, thinking. “There’s… animal bait in here? Somewhere?”

“If there’s such thing as animal bait, and it happens to be in this old ass rotting building, and all of the little squirrels and bunny rabbits miraculously die, naturally, might I mention, after they’re lured in here, then tell me, Kahl, why are there no animal skulls connected to the bodies?”

That shut everyone up. It was becoming increasingly clear to all of them that this was something man-made, and Stan knew, in his heart, that the app leading them here wasn’t just a coincidence. “Okay. Let’s get out, it smells really bad,” Stan spoke.

Craig was the first to leave the building. They all retraced their steps, through the cornfield path and down the hill, and settled back into Cartman’s Toyota. “Okay, that was creepy as fuck. I have to give you credit for that,” Craig admitted, turning back and making eye contact with Stan.

“Thanks.” Stan pulled the app up on his phone again. “You guys wanna do another one? I wanna see if the next one is, uh… creepier.” The first stop was admittedly scary, but he wanted to see how it would escalate if they went again.

Kyle and Craig ended up agreeing, and Cartman remained neutral on the subject, which meant they were off to another location. This time, it led them to the woods. Stan squinted at the screen, zooming in, trying to see if he could make out any distinct checkpoints in the woods. “Okay… we might have to walk a lot for this one, you want me to skip it?”

“Nah,” Kyle spoke before anybody else could voice their opinion. “Let’s go see.”


	2. Location Two - The Mill

Cartman pulled off of the road and drove through the grass, stopping just before he could slam into a tree. “Okay, is this the closest I can get?” The boys spent a decent amount of time scaling the area of the woods, trying to find the right place to start so they wouldn’t spend forever walking to the location the app gave them. The woods were pretty expansive, so it was important to them that they started in the right place.

“Yeah, yeah. I think this is it.” The app led them back through the city and to the countryside again, which bothered Cartman, but Stan had told him it was the only route. “Okay, are we ready?”

Craig got out of the car, slamming the door shut and looking down at his phone. “Guys, it’s 1 AM. Why did we have to do this so late?”

“Because running around in the woods is way more fun when it’s dark outside. Duh,” Kyle told him, turning on his flashlight. “Oh god… next weekend, if you guys wanna do this again, we should like, camp out somewhere. It would be really cool.”

“We don’t own property,” Craig pointed out. “We can’t camp anywhere.”

He glared at him. “It’s not illegal. I mean, it is in certain places, but-”

“Can we just go?” Cartman interrupted him, standing behind Kyle with his own flashlight in hand. “Goddamn it, I don’t need to listen to you blab about state camping laws, Kahl.”

He pouted for a moment, but the expression was quickly replaced with anger. Stan was the only one who noticed it. “Shut up.”

“Guys. Can we  _ go? _ ” Stan urged.

“Yeah.”

They started walking through the woods in a single file line, with Craig in the front, Stan behind him, Kyle behind Stan, and Cartman at the end. Cartman let his mind wander as he walked through the woods, most of his attention on Kyle’s ass. Seriously, something like that was hard to ignore when Kyle was wearing shorts. They came slightly above halfway down his thighs, and the fabric was starchy, almost as if they were swimming or athletic shorts. The shorts were red, with a white lining…

“We need to go a little left.” Stan’s voice cut through the air, and it was like a slap in the face for Cartman, who was balls deep in his Kyle fantasy. He caught up with the group, noticing that ever since he started staring, he was slowing down. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead. Summer nights in the non-mountain parts of Colorado were scorching, and Cartman suddenly wished he had never agreed to drive these idiots anywhere. 

The four of them walked, and walked, and walked, for what seemed like hours. Craig checked his phone, careful to keep one eye ahead of him in case there were any wild animals in his flashlight ring. “How far away is this place?”

“We’re about halfway there.”

“Only  _ halfway?”  _ Kyle asked, slapping a mosquito on his thigh. “That’s… wow. We’re gonna get murdered tonight. Anybody bring food?”

Nobody brought food, and nobody was tired or hungry enough to want to turn around, so they kept going, only with the promise that they would stop at Taco Bell once they were finished. Stan suggested playing music to keep them occupied, but nobody else liked that idea- Cartman had pointed out that nobody brought a speaker, and whatever music they  _ did  _ play would drown out any animal noises. Which meant that if they were in danger, they wouldn’t know about it until the bear or mountain lion or whatever the hell was right in front of them.

Talking about mountain lions and bears also brought up the fact that nobody had been wise enough to bring a gun, or at least some kind of self-defense weapon. The four of them were  _ extremely  _ vulnerable, underprepared, and now that they were aware of their situation… a little afraid. Luckily for them, though, they came to a clearing without encountering any deadly animals or serial killers. The clearing had a few run-down buildings like the one they had been in before, but not much else. 

“Damn. Well, we might as well… look around?” Kyle suggested, pushing past Craig and Stan to step inside one of the buildings. The three of them followed Kyle, wanting to stick together.

The building was not littered with animal bones like the last one had been, to their relief. “What is this?” Stan asked, kicking something metal and hollow across the ground.

Kyle crouched down to look at it, which did not help Cartman in any way. “Ew. There’s something in it.” He shone his flashlight into it, cringing when he saw something… dry?

“It’s a can of beans. There’s a label on the side,” Craig said.

“Oh. So some homeless guy, like, stayed in here?”

“I guess. Kyle, if I were you, I would check myself for ticks when you get back home.” Craig got bored and decided to leave the rotting building. There wasn’t much else to look at, so he entered another one, waving his flashlight over the walls.

Stan and Cartman followed Craig, while Kyle wandered off behind the buildings. He found a creek. It wasn’t very big, but it was the only body of water they had come across after hours of walking in the woods. Kyle was thirsty, but the water was pretty murky. He decided he could live without it. There was another clearing over the creek, and Kyle could make out the faint silhouette of another building, so he made his way across it, stepping on rocks to avoid soaking his shoes.

“There’s nothing in here,” Craig stated, turning around and scanning all possible sides of the building.

“Duh.” Cartman looked up at the ceiling, taking note of how eroded the roof was. “What was the point of these stupid buildings?”

Stan shrugged. He turned his phone on, only to find that the app crashed. “Oh shit. Guys.”

“What?”

“Uh, the map.. I don’t have it anymore,” he explained.

“ _ What _ ?”

“I-” Stan started, putting his phone back in his pocket. “I don’t know how to get back to the car. But it’s- it’s okay! Don’t worry about it, uh.. I’ll figure something out.”

“God dammit,” Cartman muttered, pushing Stan out of the way. “Screw you. I’m leaving.”

The two of them watched Cartman leave the building, but Cartman paused in his steps. He turned back around. “Where’s Kahl?”

“Why do you care? Aren’t you going home?” Stan snapped, now angry at both himself and at Cartman. “And you can’t just leave us here in the fucking woods, dude. I’ll kill you.”

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Fine. Where’s Kahl, though?”

“You worried about him?” Craig snickered, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “We don’t have any service here, no wonder Stan lost the fucking map.”

“See?” he snapped. “Not my fault.”

“Whatever.” 

The three of them stood in silence, standing around and waiting for Kyle to come back. After a few minutes, Stan got impatient. He left the building and stood next to Cartman. “Kyle!” he shouted, looking around wildly. Cartman handed him the flashlight. “Kyle?” Stan shouted again, taking the flashlight in his hand and pointing the beam at the various other buildings, hoping that he was in one of them.

“Fuck,” Stan whispered, pushing the flashlight back into Cartman’s hands. “Guys, we have to find him. And we’re gonna stay together.”

“He’s  _ fine,  _ Stan. He’s not dead or anything, he’s nearby. Kyle is smarter than that. He wouldn’t just walk off,” Craig corrected. It didn’t make Stan or Cartman feel any better about the situation, though, so they started searching.

They scaled the area, first weaving in and out of the rusty buildings. There were about six or seven of them, so it didn’t take long to search them. Kyle was nowhere to be found. They searched the edge of the clearing, yelling his name.

“He’s dead,” Stan said pessimistically. “That thing in Seattle wasn’t even fake. You heard about it, right? When those kids found someone’s remains in a suitcase near the beach? I bet the app gave someone our location or whatever, and they’re going around and killing people and getting away with it, and now Kyle-”

“Dude.”

Craig had nudged him in the arm with his shoulder. “What?” Stan asked, before noticing the creek that Cartman and Craig were illuminating with their flashlights. “Oh. Maybe he went over it, yeah…”

“You’re pathetic,” Cartman muttered, making his way across the creek using the rocks that Kyle had crossed before. “Are you in love with him or something?”

“I don’t need to be gay to worry about someone who might be fucking  _ dead,  _ Cartman. At least I have friends. If it weren’t for us, you’d be back in your bedroom, all alone and working on your schoolwork, wishing that someone loved you or at least liked you enough to want to hang out with you. So you should be thankful that you’re the only one w-”

He was cut off by Cartman’s fist bashing the side of his skull. “ _ Fuck! _ ” Stan yelped, stumbling backwards a bit. He picked himself up quickly, though, and came back at Cartman with full force, pushing him onto the ground.

Craig stared at them, watching as Cartman’s flashlight flew out of his hand and into the creek. He smiled, making his way across the rocks and standing on the opposing side of the creek. “You guys are fighting over a boy right now, you know that, right?”

Both of them turned to look at him. “No we’re fucking not!” Stan yelled. “Cartman’s just being-” he started, getting punched in the face and turned on his back while he was preoccupied.

“I’m gonna go find your boyfriend while you two fight, okay?” he yelled back, making sure they knew where he was going. It would be easier to find Kyle than to find two idiots lost in the woods, and he would much rather be with Kyle, anyway. Craig turned around, shining his flashlight on another sort of… building. He bit his lip, turning to see a large wooden water wheel. So… it was a mill?

It made sense. The water wheel went into the creek, but the creek didn’t flow very quickly, which only would’ve made a small amount of energy. Still, it was strange to think that people had…  _ lived  _ here. They built this mill, to make flour or something, and then they just abandoned it. Craig pulled his phone out of his pocket, took a few pictures, and then carried on, stepping inside of the mill to continue his search for Kyle.

Craig found him on the second floor, staring out of the back window. Kyle jumped when Craig touched him on the shoulder, but the fear turned into laughter as he turned around and met his eyes. “Hey. You scared the shit out of me, man.”

“Good. What are you looking at?” Craig asked, taking this opportunity to slip his arm around Kyle’s waist.

If it bothered Kyle, he didn’t express it. “Uh. I think I’m going crazy. So… I’ve been staring at this- I dunno- tree?” Kyle explained, pointing his flashlight at the figure. It was shorter than any average tree, and wasn’t exactly brown. “And it looks like a person, and… hahah. I think I’m just paranoid. If it’s a person, they’re really good at not moving.”

“That’s totally a fucking person.”

“What?” Kyle asked, turning to look at him. “It can’t be a person. People move around, y’know.”

The figure was truly too far away for them to accurately decide what it was, but Craig had his heart set. “Trees are brown, Kyle. That thing is not brown. It’s not nearly tall enough to be a tree, it doesn’t have any leaves, and it’s just… weirdly shaped. You know how trees have roots? Point the roots out to me.”

His smile faded. “Dude, I’m fucking scared.”

“Well, let’s keep an eye on it while we talk.” Craig steadied his flashlight on the broken window, making sure it wouldn’t move away from the figure if he got lazy with his hand. He pulled his arm away from Kyle, letting it drop down next to his side. “Stan and Cartman were fighting over you.”

Kyle smiled and tilted his head, almost as if he didn’t hear Craig right. “What?”

“We were all looking for you- Stan was really paranoid that you were dead. So Cartman started getting pissy and Stan said that he didn’t have any friends and Cartman punched him.” Craig smiled. “They’re so stupid. Anyway, they’re back there without a flashlight because Cartman’s fell into the creek.”

“You just  _ left them  _ back there? They’re- you’re right! They’re stupid, and now they’re probably lost.” Kyle shook his head, inhaling sharply. “Let’s go back.”

“You’re more important than them. And I think they’re smart enough to at least stay in the clearing and use the flash on their phones, don’t you think?”

Kyle opened his mouth to protest, before shutting it. “Well- okay. If Cartman and Stan were fighting, do you really think Cartman wouldn’t just abandon him? And Stan has been using his phone all night, his phone could be dead by now. Come on, we need to go.”

“Okay.” Kyle was probably right- he knew both Cartman and Stan way better than Craig did at this point. Before they descended the stairs, Craig took one last look at the figure, making sure it wasn’t moving. Once he was satisfied, he followed Kyle.

They crossed the creek, both of them relieved to find that Cartman and Stan were sitting there on the grass, done fighting for the time being. “Found him,” Craig said, as if it weren’t obvious.

“Yeah. That’s… good. Uh, we kinda… made up,” Stan explained, standing up. Cartman stood up too, his eyes on Kyle.

“Cool. I’m creeped out, I think we should go back,” Kyle said. “So… um, Stan?”

Stan bit his lip. “I lost the map on my phone. There’s no service… I think if we just go back the way we came, it’ll be fine. We didn’t move very much, we just walked in a straight line.”

“Ugh. Better than nothing, I guess? Come on,” Kyle urged, handing his flashlight over to Cartman as they made their way past the abandoned buildings. “There was a mill on that other side, by the way. That’s where I was.”

“ _ Yeah,  _ and you scared the shit out of me! You know you’re not supposed to fucking leave without even telling us first. What if you got lost? And if you’re creeped out, why would you even do that in the first place?”

Kyle didn’t respond, too worn out to even come up with an explanation. “Someone was back there,” Craig said ominously, deciding to explain for him.

“What? Someone was near the mill? You’re just saying that,” Cartman spoke up. He took the front of the line this time, stepping into the thicker part of the woods and moving his flashlight around. “If someone was there, what did they look like, then? ‘Cause you’re just trying to creep us out.”

“They were too far away. We couldn’t see.”

“Yeah,” Kyle confirmed. “Like, I thought I was hallucinating first, or just paranoid, but Craig told me it was a person.”

Cartman sighed. “Why didn’t you help them, then?”

“Because they were creepy as  _ fuck? _ ” Kyle responded, shaking his head. Kyle and Stan had to walk in between Cartman and Craig, since they didn’t have flashlights. So far, they thought they were on the right track to getting back to the car. “Oh yeah, um… I think we should bring more people next time. And a tent, maybe.”

“Like who?” Stan spoke up, wanting to find out who else Kyle was friends with.

Kyle looked down at his legs, cringing at the number of bug bites he would have to treat when he got back to the house. “...There’s this guy in my psychology class, he’s really cool. I could invite him?”

“This is gonna be a sausage fest. Can’t you guys invite any girls?”

“Um, how about Wendy?” Kyle suggested.

“Fuck no. She’s a know-it-all,” Cartman spoke from the front of the line. “Bitch is always going on and on in my business class about how capitalism is bad. Wah wah wah, minorities! Poor people! Don’t you know any hot girls, Craig?”

“I’m gay,” Craig spoke.

Stan blinked, turning around to look at him. “What? You are?”

“I’ve been gay this entire time, yes.”

“Did you know that before you invited him, Kyle?”

Kyle stopped walking, turning around to look at them. “What, are you suddenly homophobic? Even Cartman doesn’t have a problem with it. Why don’t you just suck it up and accept that people are different? It’s not that big of a deal.”

Cartman started to turn around now. “Actually, I do have a p-”

“Hey, wait. I never said I had a problem with it, I was just asking-”

“Well, you’re acting like you have a problem with it!” Kyle shouted, his face red. “It’s not the end of the world, Stan. God.”

Stan’s mouth gaped for a moment. Why was Kyle  _ mad  _ at him? He just wanted to know if he knew Craig was gay beforehand. “Jeez, dude! Why are you so defensive? I don’t have a problem with it! I just- are you gay, Kyle? D-... I just…” Stan trailed off, feeling the atmosphere around them drop. He had fucked things up, hadn’t he? Maybe if he just explained himself, he could fix the situation… “I just wanted to know if you knew he was gay before because like… I thought that maybe the two of you dated or something, and I-”

“No! We never fucking dated! I don’t get why you care so much!”

“Kahl’s gay, guys,” Cartman snickered. The three of them glared at him. “Well, whatever! He didn’t answer the question, dahmn… let’s go back to the car.”

They walked in silence for a while, Kyle’s face still reddened with anger and Stan’s heart still in the pit of his stomach. Why was Kyle avoiding answering the question? 

“Who’s paying for Taco Bell?”

“I’m not paying for any of you faggots,” Cartman grumbled.

“I’ll pay for Kyle,” Craig offered, glaring at Stan.

Kyle sighed. “Okay. I’ll spit whatever I get with you, Stan.”

So the Taco Bell situation was settled, and nobody brought up the argument over Craig being gay again. After another hour of walking, they successfully came to a sign of civilization- a paved road. They walked along the grass for a while, finding Cartman’s car, wordlessly getting back in and driving away. 


	3. Location Three - The Train Track

Kyle, Cartman, and Stan sat in the dorm complex living room, bickering.

“Kahl, if you invite Wendy, I’m not driving you guys anywhere. That is final.” Cartman sunk back into the recliner, crossing his arms, acting as if he were the parent of a stubborn child and had won the argument.

“Nope, already invited her. Plus, she has a car, so technically if you didn’t want to take us, she just could.” Kyle looked up from his phone, a Snapchat conversation with Kenny opened on his screen. “I’m going to make a groupchat, tell me if you’re going to stop being an asshole so I can add you in it.”

“Oh- remember to add me, dude,” Stan said, turning to look at Cartman. “Wendy is way smarter than you anyway. And she wouldn’t do something stupid like punch me in the face for no reason and drop her flashlight into a creek.”

Cartman narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t even met her. She’s not smarter than me. She’s a chick. But whatever, if you fags want to invite her, then invite her. I’ll still know the truth.”

He blinked. “What truth?”

“That you guys are using her to cover up the fact that you’re gay.”

“Oh, come on,” Stan muttered, rolling his eyes. “Only Craig is gay. Maybe you’re the one who’s gay, since all you do is shit on Craig. Do you like him?”

Cartman glared at him. “Why would I like him? I’m not a fag, and even if I was, he has no redeeming qualities.”

“Shut up,” Stan said. “If you’re not gay, then shut up about him.”

“Okay, so Cartman isn’t going to stop being an asshole, did I hear that right? I made the group chat, Wendy and Kenny are online. I don’t know where Craig is.”

Stan shrugged, pulling out his phone and starting to text the group. As Cartman said, he had never met Wendy in person, but he knew about her through everything Kyle and Cartman told him. And she seemed… cool. 

Cartman stared at the two of them, mouth gaping slightly. “Oh, come on, you guys! You know I was just joking, right? You guys can’t take a little joke? C’mon, add me to the group.”

“No,” Kyle hissed. “I’m not doing it.”

“Fine.” Crossing his arms, he looked away from them, trying to think of a way to wedge himself back into their group. “If… if you add me to it, I’ll buy you guys all Taco Bell, or chinese or whatever tonight.”

Kyle grinned. “Okay. What’s your username?”

“It’s…” he said, pulling his phone out. Cartman hadn’t used Snapchat since middle school. “I eat pussy underscore five-oh-nine.”

“Are you serious,” Kyle deadpanned, huffing and adding Cartman to the group chat.

“You’re straightphobic, Kahl.”

“Kyle _is_ straight,” Stan butted in. “Stop being stupid.”

Kyle turned his phone off. “When did I say that?”

“What?”

“When did I say I was straight, dude?”

Stan swallowed his spit. “You’re.. not?”

He let out a small chuckle, before standing up and walking down the hallway. “I’m getting my shoes, ask Kenny and Craig if they’re free, Wendy already said she had nothing else to do today.”

“...Okay.” Stan looked back down at the screen, puzzled at the fact that Kyle suddenly decided to… come out? It wasn’t even coming out- it was the most offhand way of implying that he wasn’t straight.

**_sparkys04:_ ** _hey kenny kyle wants to know if we can do it today?? like are u free_

**_sparkys04:_ ** _like right now_

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _I am_

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ok can like_

**_sparkys04:_ ** _anybody talk to craig_

**_tburgers:_ ** _Kyle should have his number??_

**_sparkys04:_ ** _he told me to ask_

**_tburgers:_ ** _I’ll dm him outside of this chat but I don’t think he will respond_

**_tburgers:_ ** _Kyle should do it_

**_sparkys04:_ ** _okay_

Stan tapped Wendy’s username and came to her profile, staring at her Bitmoji. He didn’t know what she actually looked like, but... he could imagine. 

Her Snapscore was pretty high. Wendy had a lot of friends, apparently.

Kyle came back from his bedroom, his shoes on. “Hey.”

“Kenny is free, Craig isn’t answering. Wendy said you should text him.”

“He hasn’t been answering my texts either. Um..” Kyle hummed, pursing his lips together. Stan could tell that he wanted to say something.

Stan waited for Kyle to continue, but he didn’t. Maybe he was just… thinking. Or scared to come out. “If you’re gay, dude, I’m fine with it. Like, you don’t need to worry about coming out-”

“Huh?” Kyle interrupted, narrowing his eyes. “Oh. Um, yeah. I’m gay. We can go without Craig, he can come next time, or… if he happens to answer any of us, we can pick him up on our way there. Sound okay?” he asked, picking up the backpack with the flashlights they had used last time in the corner of the room. “Actually- hey, wait. Let me check the weather, if it’s gonna be all muddy I don’t want to go.”

It wasn’t exactly night time yet, but it was late enough for everyone’s classes to be over with. Stan thought that would give them enough time to look at a few more new places, given that the locations were actually _in_ Denver, and not miles and miles away. Also assuming Cartman wouldn’t get pissy and have a tantrum over the smallest little things, slowing them down. 

“We’re good,” Kyle confirmed, hoisting the backpack over his shoulder. “I think we should bring snacks this time. And water. Last time was miserable.”

“You’re right,” he said, standing up. Stan stared at Cartman. “What’s wrong with you? Are you going? Wendy can pick us up if you aren’t.”

Cartman shook his head, standing up. “I’m coming, fags. God.”

-

The five of them were in Cartman’s car, Stan riding shotgun this time, given that he had the directions. Stan was leaning back, pretending to want to talk to Kyle and Kenny, when in reality, he just wanted to stare at Wendy. “So, is that a yes or no to us camping?”

“I mean, I think it would be fun. It’s not going to rain, nobody has anything to do tonight…” Kyle went on, watching Cartman from the corner of his eye as he drove to Wal-Mart. “I have money. We’ll probably need two tents, but once we’re done with most of the locations we can go out for food, since Cartman is paying and everything.”

“...I can pay for my own, actually,” Wendy butted in. “No offense, but I don’t really want to sleep with any of you guys. I only really know Kyle and Cartman, and I’m not sleeping with Cartman.”

Kyle smiled. “That’s fair. Hey, wait… Craig’s actually gay, maybe you could sleep in a tent with him? I mean, if he ever responds to my texts. It’s still your choice, but-”

“Craig is _gay?”_ Kenny asked, grinning. “Nice.”

“Oh no,” Cartman said from where he was sitting. He kept his eyes on the road, but Kyle could tell that he was burning to turn around. “Now there’s two fags in this stupid group?”

Everyone ignored Cartman. “He has standards, Kenny,” Kyle said.

“Damn it.”

Kyle and Kenny instinctively turned to look at Wendy, given that she hadn’t answered Kyle’s question. Wendy looked at the two of them, then shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes, I don’t really know how Craig is... are you gay too, Kenny?”

“Nah, I’m bi. Are you interested?”

She made a face. “Sorry. No.”

He smiled and sat back in his seat. “It’s fine.”

Stan’s gaze lingered on Wendy a while longer before turning back, realizing that they were already at Wal-Mart. Cartman put the car in park and got out.

The four of them got out too, stepping into the building and going their own separate ways. Cartman was sent to buy three more flashlights and batteries, Kenny was on food duty, Stan and Wendy went to figure out the tent situation, and Kyle wanted to look at bug spray.

Stan and Wendy walked through the aisles, both of them silent. Stan finally grew the balls to speak. “So… what’s your, um, major?”

“Psychology, I want to help younger kids. Maybe I’ll be a case worker or therapist someday,” she said, talking without looking at him. Wendy turned her head, finally making eye contact and smiling. “You?”

“I have, uh. Zoology and nursing, kinda? I want to be a vet, so I take classes for both.”

Her smile grew wider. “That’s nice.. I considered being a vet once, but humans are more interesting to me.”

Stan couldn’t come up with anything else to say, so with that, the conversation died off. He watched her from the corner of his eye nervously. She probably thought he was awkward or antisocial, didn’t she?

Wendy stopped in the middle of the isle, turning to look at something on the shelf. “There are fourteen-person tents?”

“Wow,” Stan said stupidly, standing next to her and looking at the box. “That’s huge. Would it be cheaper?”

She shrugged. “I think we should go for it. I’ll pay,” Wendy said, pulling the box off of the shelf.

“You want me to carry it?”

“No, I’m good,” Wendy smiled, hoisting the box further up into the crook of her armpit.

They decided to meet up with Kyle, so Stan texted him to find out where he was. Kyle had already grabbed bug spray and met up with Kenny, which meant they had to go in the food section.

“Hey guys,” Wendy said, dropping the box into Kenny’s cart. “I got a fourteen-person tent, does that sound good? I can pay.”

“I didn’t-” Kyle started, looking over at Stan. “They make tents that big?”

Stan shrugged.

“Oh well. We’re done here, unless there’s anything specific that you guys want…” Kyle trailed off. In the cart, they had bottled water, a box of Cheez-Its, a box of Oatmeal Pies, trail mix, and ingredients for a sandwich.

“Donuts,” Stan said.

Wendy nodded in agreement. “We could make s’mores, too.”

“Oooh, I forgot about s’mores. I’ve never been camping before,” Kenny said, smiling. “This is gonna be fun.”

-

They met with Cartman near the checkout, and were glad to find out that he actually brought a hunting knife, too. After paying for all of the food, the tents, bug spray, and flashlights, they left the store and put everything in the trunk.

“Cartman, wait. We have to go pick up Craig,” Kyle said once everyone was in the car.

“Why?”

“He said he was free. He just now texted me.”

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

They parked in Craig’s driveway, but ran into a dilemma. There were five seats in Cartman’s car, and six of them.

“Let’s kick Cartman out,” Craig said jokingly. “He doesn’t add anything.”

“He’s paying for dinner tonight, and plus, this is his car. Maybe all four of us can squeeze in the back,” Kyle said, looking around at Kenny, Craig, and Wendy. Kyle scooted over, and the three of them smushed themselves together trying to make room for Craig. It didn’t work. “Kenny, stand up.”

“What? You’re gonna leave me here?”

“No! You’re skinny, sit on Stan’s lap or something. Or Craig’s. Just not mine.”

Kenny stood up and got out of the car, letting Craig sit down where he was sitting previously. “Why me?”

“I already said. You’re skinny.”

“Fine.” Kenny sat down on Craig’s lap, slamming the door shut and buckling himself up. “So, Craig. You’re gay?”

As they talked, Stan found a new location and gave Cartman directions. By the time they got there, the sun was starting to set.

“So… what is it this time?” Kyle asked, leaning forward in his seat with his hands on the back of Stan’s, trying to see what was on his phone. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to walk for hours in the woods like last time- he would rather have a location in the woods later in the night, which made sense, because they were supposed to be camping.

Stan scratched the back of his head. “Train tracks. There’s no woods, only some trees. We have to walk for a bit, but not for long, the tracks are kind of surrounded by suburbs so we can’t really drive between houses.”

“Oh.” Kyle was slightly disappointed- train tracks sounded boring. He knew the app was supposed to give them a “random location” to go to, and that it wouldn’t always be something fantastic or extraordinary like the abandoned building full of bones and the rusty mill he was creeped out by last time, but he still expected something… mildly interesting.

Craig seemed to agree with his reasoning. “Train tracks? What the hell is going to be on the train tracks?” he asked, watching as Kenny opened the door and hopped out of the car, off of his lap. Craig got up too, following him.

Wendy got out after Craig. “People hang creepy dolls from tree branches all the time. I don’t think we’ll find any in Denver, though.”

“Yeah, and people hang themselves from trees all the time,” Cartman sneered. Everyone was out of the car now, and Kyle decided to bring two flashlights in his backpack, just in case the location was too far away and it got dark before they arrived. 

“Dude, shut up.” Stan was staring down at his phone, starting to walk in the direction of the train tracks.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who’s suicidal and emo.”

“Shut up!” Kyle scolded, glaring at him. “You have more mental health issues than he does. Stop projecting.”

Cartman decided not to answer that, which was probably for the best. Wendy and Craig watched them as they walked, both amused at their bickering. They found the train track, walking on either side. It was a single-track railway, which Kyle pointed out, explaining that it meant the train track wasn’t used very often.

“Whatever, nerd.”

“ _Cartman_ ,” Kyle hissed. “Can you stop commenting on everything I say and do?”

“Can you stop commenting on everything?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Just shut up. Please.”

“Well, I’m just sayin’, nobody cares about the frequency of use for fucking train tracks.”

“Maybe I do,” Stan said, only to piss Cartman off further. Hearing Kyle ramble was comforting to him sometimes, but it was easy to see why it could frustrate someone like Cartman. Still, hearing Cartman bitch about everything was tiring.

Cartman muttered a few things under his breath, before turning to look at Stan. “You only care because you have feelings for him, and you want to make it look like you care about what he’s saying.”

“Wow. That’s a stretch,” Craig said.

“Yeah. Stan doesn’t have feelings for me. Stop accusing everybody of being gay, it’s not funny anymore- well, it was never funny. It’s actually getting kind of repetitive.”

Wendy pursed her lips together. “Guys.”

“Hm?”

“I have a car. Next time, we can just take mine and not have to put up with him,” she said, smiling at Stan as they made eye contact.

“That’s it. I’m not paying for Chinese tonight.”

“We’re going to Chinese?” Kenny asked.

Kyle shook his head. “Cartman, can you _please_ just stop being a dick? If you’re so concerned about us going to these places without you, then stop acting like a little bitch about everything. Please. You clearly think that this is fun, or you like being around us or something, so drop the fucking act or the facade or whatever it is. All of us are annoyed.”

Cartman looked away, frustrated. He didn’t reply. “We’re almost there, guys,” Stan told them.

Kyle looked away from Cartman, relieved. At least all of their bickering was good for something- it was a distraction while they walked, making time go by way faster. “Cool. It’s not a building this time, is it?”

“It doesn’t really look like one.”

“Oh.”

The six of them walked, enjoying Cartman’s temporary silence. Stan suddenly stopped walking. “This is it.”

“What? There’s like, nothing here,” Kenny said, looking around.

“We’re not-” Stan started, but got cut off by Kyle.

“The app isn’t _supposed_ to give you creepy locations. It’s just supposed to send you somewhere random,” he explained, turning to look at Stan. “Oh. Sorry dude.”

Craig stared at them. “So what now?”

“Wait.” Wendy left the train track, carefully walking down the small hill of gravel into the thin strip of trees lining the track. “Let’s just look around, we could find something. The last two times, if you guys weren’t lying about it… you got weird places. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Kyle expected Cartman to butt in and say something stupid, but surrpsingly enough, he went on the other side of the tracks, starting to look around like Wendy suggested. He smiled, deciding to follow Wendy, as she was more bearable. Stan went with him, which left Craig and Kenny to go with Cartman.

They searched for fifteen minutes, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

“Guys! Stan! Kyle?”

Kyle looked up, spotting Kenny on the other side of the track, maybe sixty or so yards away from where they were gathered. “We found something!” Kenny shouted again. Kyle tapped Wendy on the back and tugged Stan on the forearm before setting off in Kenny’s direction, wondering if Wendy was right. He had considered it before, but it didn’t seem like a coincidence that they were sent to _real_ disturbing locations, like the building full of clean animal bones. What normal Denver civilian knew about a place like that?

He stood in front of Kenny. “...Where is it?” Kyle asked, looking up in the trees for a hanging noose or creepy doll like Cartman and Wendy mentioned in the car.

“It’s here.” Kenny grabbed Kyle by the forearm and led him into a cluster of trees, pointing at a dried up pool of blood on the grass. Cartman and Craig stood around it, staring. Craig had his phone out, probably taking a picture or something.

“What the fuck? That’s… so much blood.” Kyle crouched down to look at it, hearing gravel crunching behind him, knowing that it was Stan and Wendy.

Stan stood next to him, staring at the dried up pool, cringing. “Did someone fucking die here?”

“Animals die in the woods all the time,” Cartman mentioned, without his usual snarky, know-it-all tone. Kyle was hopeful for a moment that he had actually managed to set Cartman straight. “Something ate it and dragged its bones and flesh somewhere else, that’s why there’s no body.”

“Actually, you have a point.” Kyle exhaled, standing back up and stepping behind Stan. He was done staring at blood- it wouldn’t tell him anything.

Wendy took his place. “That’s way too much blood in order for it to be an animal.”

“What about deers? Bucks? Bears? Those are pretty big,” Craig pointed out.

“Okay, but what about the fact that the app led us here?” 

“Let’s talk about it in the car, guys. It’s really hot out here,” Stan pleaded. 

They walked back to the car, still in discussion about the dried blood. “It’s nature, Wendy. Of course there’s going to be blood, dead animals.. it’s called the food chain.”

“Okay, do you consider the dilapidated building full of animal bones separated from flesh, muscle tendon, and skulls to be the food chain?” she asked, tilting her head at him.

Craig shrugged. “That could’ve been someone trying to scare us.”

At that point, Kyle didn’t know where to stand on the matter. Cartman and Craig were right- the blood could’ve been from an animal. It was perfectly natural. Wendy was right too, though. The fact that the app led them there was unnerving.

Then again… they did have to search for the pool of blood when they got to the train tracks. They didn’t have to search when it came to the other locations- it was exact.

He was relieved when they got into the air-conditioned car and back off of his feet. The conversation about the blood was still ongoing, but he managed to tune it out as he stared out of the window. Kyle wanted to revisit those places- visiting the building filled with animal bones and the old mill felt like a fever dream at this point. He knew it really happened, because his friends were there with him at the time, but something was telling him to go back. 


	4. Location Four - The Hometown Cemetery

“Craig,” Kyle whispered. He turned to look at him, before realizing he had his earbuds in. Kyle nudged him to get his attention instead.

The app directed them to a location outside of Denver, which was taking longer than expected. Cartman had been driving for a little over an hour at this point. Stan had set a limit on how far away the location would be, but the app took them out of the _county,_ which proved Wendy’s point from earlier- that the app sending them to strange places wasn’t just a coincidence. Someone _was_ in control of the locations. She pointed out that if the locations were computer-generated, they would stay within the borders.

Craig turned to look at him, taking an earbud out. Kenny was on his lap once again. Everyone in the car was either listening to music, resting their eyes, or in Cartman and Wendy’s case, arguing about how the app worked. “Do you remember that figure… thingy? Near the mill?”

“..How could I forget.”

“I think we should go back there. I really want to know what it is. Like… I know last time, it was dark, and I was way too scared to see what it was, but if we do it during the daytime it should be okay. Don’t you think?” Kyle asked, frowning. He really wanted to know what that thing was. There was always a chance that it _had_ been a person, but if the person was in any way related to the app (and still near the abandoned mill), they would be caught off-guard while they visited. They could only track Stan’s phone while he used the app- there was no way they could track Craig’s or Kyle’s, as far as they knew.

Craig nodded, breaking eye contact to stare at the back of Cartman’s seat. “We should. Do you want to go alone?”

“I don’t know. We would be safer with more people,” he explained, looking away too. “I’ll think about it.” Nobody else in the house heard their conversation, which meant they were free to make their own decision about whether to go back to the mill alone or not.

“Okay, Cartman. Whatever. You might be right when it comes to everyone else, but what about us? Not once have you guys gotten a dud location, but everyone else says that it led them to the middle of nowhere, or someone’s private property, or that their location happened to be in an ocean or lake. It can’t be a coincidence that every time you guys searched for a location, it led you to something creepy. Not only that, but the locations were _exact,_ you guys didn’t have t-”

“What about last time?” Cartman spoke. Craig put his earbud back in and looked out of the window, making Kyle wish that he had brought a pair of earbuds of his own. “There was nothing except some blood last time, and that was from a dead animal. The location wasn’t exact. We had to search for it. Explain that.”

Stan looked down at his phone. “Cartman, take a right.” Cartman turned the steering wheel, pulling onto a new street.

“You know how I feel about the blood. And it was still creepy, exact location or not. Someone is directing Stan to all of these places.”

“Wendy,” Kyle spoke. Was she _really_ stupid enough to argue with Cartman? “Why are you wasting your time?”

Cartman smirked. “See, even Kahl knows I’m right, and he’s always uptight about everything.”

“You’re _not_ right. There are too many coincidences for you to be right. But you aren’t going to change your mind.”

Wendy smiled at him. “ _See?_ You’re falling for it, too. It’s just too tempting to not argue with him.”

 _Shit_. Kyle made eye contact with her. “You’re right. It is tempting.”

“You guys can’t prove me wrong, you know. It’s just an app. It finds creepy places, and-”

“Cartman. Take another right.”

“-sends you there. Oh, shit.” Cartman missed his turn. He glanced in the rearview mirror, before putting the car in reverse.

Craig pulled an earbud out. “Fuck are you doing?”

“There’s nobody on the road, _Craig._ This is a fuckin’ ghost town. You can’t get arrested if nobody sees you,” he said, attempting to justify himself as he turned down the road.

Craig pulled both earbuds out, looking out of the window. “Wait, where are we?”

“Uh, some town called South Park.”

“I _grew up_ here,” Craig said, sitting up straighter. “Why would it take you here? This is bullshit, it isn’t supposed to go outside of Denver!”

Stan shrugged, seeming generally unconcerned. “You knew this app was weird, dude. I told you about it.”

Kenny pulled out his own set of earbuds, probably concerned at Craig’s sudden yelling. “What’s wrong?”

“It took us an _hour_ outside of Denver to the place where I fucking grew up, that’s what. This is fucking creepy. Where is it leading you?” Craig explained, glancing at Stan before looking back out of the window. “We’ve seriously been driving for an hour.”

“It’s a graveyard. We’re pretty much almost there,” Stan said. 

“A _graveyard?”_

“Yup.”

Craig’s lips parted slightly, but he said nothing else. Kenny frowned. “What’s the problem?”

“You’ll fucking see.”

Cartman stopped when he got to the graveyard, pulling into a large patch of grass. Kyle lifted his backpack full of flashlights and unzipped it, passing one to everyone except for Stan. He, too, thought it was weird that the app would lead them to Craig’s hometown, but it was a graveyard. A small-town graveyard. Maybe the less popular graveyards were creepier? Kyle wasn’t sure, but he wanted to see what the deal was before he came to any conclusions.

They all got out. Craig set off to a plot of land in the far back without saying a word. Kenny followed him, naturally curious.

Craig waved his flashlight over a row of tombstones, stopping and sitting down in front of one of them. Kenny felt the wind brush around his neck, and pulled his hood up over his head- it wasn’t snowing up in the mountain towns yet, but it got colder at night than it did in Denver. Kenny sat down next to him. “Hey.”

Craig had set his flashlight down in a way that it illuminated the tombstone without needing to hold it in place. Kenny didn’t read the name, his gaze instead fixated on Craig’s face, trying to decipher how he felt. “After today, I’m not going on another one of these things with you guys. Sorry.”

“...Why?”

“It’s too real.” Craig shook his head. “Whoever is doing this, they know who I am. And they know shit about me.”

Kenny blinked, trying to comprehend it. “Well, just because it’s your hometown-”

“Read the fucking tombstone.”

Kenny read the tombstone. _Tweek Tweak, 8/17/01 - 10/5/17._ According to the birth date, Kenny assumed that whoever had died and Craig were around the same age- a friend, maybe? “Did you know them?”

“My ex-boyfriend. He died on October 5th.”

His jaw dropped, turning back to look at the tombstone. It all made sense, and the more he thought about the locations they were brought to that Kyle had described to him, the worse he felt. Someone _was_ behind it. But how? How would they know that Craig was with Stan, looking at these ‘anomalies’ through a stupid phone app?

“..How did he die?” Kenny asked, his mouth suddenly going dry. He had almost been afraid to ask.

Craig buried his head in his hands. “Leukemia. Fuck.”

Cautiously, Kenny wrapped an arm around Craig’s shoulders. He definitely didn’t seem like the type of person to want physical affection, but it couldn’t hurt. Okay, it probably could. But Craig didn’t seem to be reacting negatively. The two sat there, Craig’s head still in his hands and Kenny’s eyes on the tombstone. It was still polished, not chipped or cracked or anything. Kenny noticed a bouquet of flowers next to it, but didn’t say anything.

Fresh flowers.

Kenny wasn’t very knowledgeable on flower types, but he knew certain types had different meanings. He took out his phone and opened Snapchat, taking a picture and saving it to his memories to look at later. Maybe he could figure out what type it was.

“Where the fuck did Craig and Kenny go?” Kyle shouted from somewhere behind them.

Kenny let his arm drop back down to his side. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit.”

“No. It’s fine,” Craig said. “You don’t have to leave. I just... “ Kenny waited for him to speak again, but nothing else came out. The two of them stared at the name on the tombstone. Kenny wondered what this Tweek boy was like. How did he look? Did him and Craig have a good.. relationship?

“I don’t know why it brought Stan here. It’s like it’s trying to torment me or something.”

“The only way to find out is to keep going with this thing. Unless you know another way,” Kenny answered him. None of the locations had been particularly personal to anyone in the group, except for Craig. 

Kenny wondered why.

“Hey,” Kyle said, standing behind them. He looked at the grave. “Are you okay, Craig?”

Craig didn’t answer, so Kenny spoke for him. “He’s okay. He’ll talk to you guys later.”

“...Alright. Well, we’ve looked through most of the graveyard, we don’t really see anything… unusual, so, we’re gonna start leaving soon. It’s too cold to camp out here, and it’s a graveyard, so we’d get arrested anyway.”

“Yeah. Makes sense. We’ll be in the car in a minute, okay?”

Kyle nodded and left the area, leaving Craig and Kenny at the grave alone. Kenny put his arm back around Craig’s shoulders. “Hey. We should go.”

Craig took his head out of his hands and started to stand up. “I’m okay now. I think. I don’t know if I want to keep doing it. You’re right, I can only find out… whoever is doing this, or why, if I stay with you guys, but if it’s gonna- it-” he stammered, shaking his head. Kenny stood up too, staring at him. “It’s just creepy. I don’t want to die or be stalked. Knowing they have a one-up on me is scary.”

Through his stammering and complicated explanations, Kenny found himself understanding what he meant. If he moved out of his home county, and was brought back to a loved one’s grave through a sketchy phone app, he would be paranoid too. “Yeah. That makes… sense, I feel you, man. But Tweek- he’s in a better place now, okay? And if you don’t want to keep doing this, I don’t think Stan or Kyle would care if you like… opted out.” He bent back down to pick up his and Craig’s flashlights, gathering them in his left hand before standing back up. “Let’s go to the car. I can explain to them if you want.”

Craig grabbed his hand.

Kenny’s jaw dropped. He made eye contact to make sure it wasn’t some sort of mistake. Seriously, this guy barely showed any emotions, and _hated_ being touched, but now they were… holding hands? Even if it was more of a comfort thing than romantic, he was flattered.

They walked back to the car in silence. Craig still hadn’t said if he preferred Kenny to do the explaining or not, but he knew that his silence was an answer in itself.

Craig and Kenny were the last ones into the car. Kenny did the explaining himself.

-

They had a hard time deciding _where_ exactly to camp, but they drove back to Denver and decided that a flat, open spot in the woods would be good enough- they didn’t really want to start a forest fire, though, so they also considered camping in an open field surrounded by trees. Not that there were any areas in Denver they were aware of that fit the criteria. 

Craig remained distant throughout the drive, more so than he usually was. Kenny and Kyle were the only ones to notice this, and Kenny was the only one who tried to talk to him about it. The two of them whispered while everyone else carried on a conversation about possible camping locations- none of them wanted to talk about the app after what Craig told them earlier.

“Guys,” Craig spoke, getting annoyed at the fact nobody could decide where to settle. “Let’s just camp in my parents’ backyard.”

Everyone’s attention was on him at that moment. He hadn’t spoken to anyone besides Kenny since he got out of the car in South Park, and he had a solution. “But then we won’t be able to build a fire,” Wendy pointed out. “Wouldn’t your parents care?”

“They’re not even at home. But if Cartman goes in my fucking house, I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

“‘Ey.”

“Shut up,” Craig snapped. “So it’s my house, unless you guys can come up with a better solution.”

Kyle and Stan made eye contact. “No. I mean, yeah, it’s a good idea. What time are they coming home?” 

“They’re on vacation. In Hawaii.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, I guess?” Kyle said, looking around at everyone else. “What’s it gonna be?”

Nobody really had an opinion, which was surprising because Cartman, Stan, and Wendy all seemed to have _very_ strong opinions about where they should’ve set up camp beforehand. Eventually, Wendy spoke. “Don’t you want to be alone for a bit, Craig? After what happened?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Maybe away from Cartman,” he said.

Cartman rolled his eyes and kept driving. “What did I do?”

Craig didn’t answer that, instead opting to stare out of the window as buildings and trees flew by. Nobody spoke again until Cartman parked his car in the driveway, and Wendy and Stan went to get the groceries out of the trunk. Everyone circled around to the back of the house, where Kenny used a pocket knife to open the box for the tent, and left Stan to try and put it together.

He laid the tarp out on the grass, returning to the instructions and using a flashlight to read them. He squinted for a moment, then grabbed the body of the tent and put it over the tarp. “Can… Kyle, can you help me with the poles?”

“Sure, dude.” The two of them put the poles together, but then ran into a problem, arguing over whether the colored edges of the tarp needed to correlate with the edges of the body or not.

Wendy watched them with a smug grin, although she wasn’t doing it in a condescending way- more like she was enjoying the entertainment. Cartman turned to look at her as he shoved his hand in the box of Cheez-Its. “Stupid, aren’t they? Me, you, and Craig are the only smart ones in this group, Wendy. Let’s face it. Kahl only has school smarts.”

“Are you seriously eating right now?” she asked, disgusted, ignoring the fact that he called her smart. In the car, they had agreed that once they got the tent put together, they would go out for Chinese.

“It’s an appetizer.”

“You’re insane. You don’t need an appetizer before a buffet,” she scoffed, looking away from him. Wendy knew some people overate as a coping mechanism, but it didn’t really occur to her that Cartman was doing it.

He rolled his eyes again. “At least I don’t have anorexia like you do.”

“I don’t have anorexia.”

“All skinny white bitches have anorexia.”

She exhaled loudly, moving to a different part of the backyard to avoid any further conversation that Cartman might initiate.


	5. Craig's Backyard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; mention of past drug abuse, drinking (underage drinking technically)

Overstuffed from the Chinese buffet and drowsy from staying up until 2 AM, everyone changed into their pyjamas (Wendy insisted on changing inside the tent because she was a girl, while everyone else changed outside), with Kyle being the first one to fall asleep. He was soon followed by Cartman, Stan, and eventually Wendy. That left Craig in the tent, alone and awake.

Craig started to get irritated with Cartman’s ever-present snoring. He moved to the door of the tent, grabbing his shoes and pulling them on, watching Stan and Kyle as he tied the laces. Stan had his arm around Kyle as he slept. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad for him- on one hand, he had an arm around Kyle. On the other hand, Kyle was… asleep. Which meant Stan probably had a thing for him.

Unzipping the door of the tent, he threw his jacket on and stuffed one of the smaller flashlights into his jacket pocket, considering going for a run. He was thankful to live in a safer neighborhood, and he knew the right places to avoid, but did he really want to be alone with his own thoughts in the middle of the night, when he knew all he could think about was Tweek’s grave? Not only was the topic of Tweek unsettling to him, it was also the situation surrounding it- the  _ way  _ he was brought back to him.

Hell, maybe he would go inside and watch TV. It would make him feel less alone, and it was better than running around the neighborhood where there weren’t that many streetlights to begin with.

Craig left the tent and zipped the door back up as high as he could, turning around only to find Kenny sitting near the fire, drinking a can of beer. He had a 12-pack sitting next to him.

He stood up, considering his options. Should he talk to Kenny, or go for a run? Go inside? Go back into the tent and listen to music until he drifted off? Craig decided that talking to Kenny would be the best option- he was the most understanding out of the five others, and the most tolerable, aside from Kyle. And he had beer.

“Hey,” Craig greeted, sitting in the dirt next to Kenny around the crackling fire. He decided not to add anything. There were too many subjects that he didn’t want to touch on.

Wordlessly, Kenny tossed him a warm can of beer, watching as it landed on his lap. Craig picked it up. “Where did you get beer?” he asked, tapping the top of the can and cracking it open.

“I have friends,” Kenny grinned. “You know. In the area.”

With the exception of Kyle and Stan, who were both sophomores and a year older than them, everyone else was a freshman, and 18. Including Kenny. “You have friends? Like, a dealer?”

Kenny took another sip of beer. “Sure. Not drugs though, I stopped using that shit a long time ago.”

“You were addicted before?”

Kenny nodded slowly. The whites of Kenny’s eyes glazed as he stared at the fire. “I’m glad I stopped before I started college. It would’ve ruined my whole life.”

Craig started to feel a little bad for him. “I can imagine that.”

Cicadas chirped in the trees behind them, and the occasional car or truck drove by in front of the house, headlights glaring and illuminating the sidewalks as it passed. He tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t find anything useful- Craig had never abused drugs. He smoked weed once or twice, and got high on spray paint fumes, but had never done the  _ hard  _ stuff. The stuff every celebrity and single mother on welfare got hooked on, like heroin. Craig decided asking more questions was admissible. Kenny didn’t seem to be sensitive to any topics so far. “How did you get to stop?”

“I don’t even know,” he said, shaking his head. Kenny made eye contact with him. “The withdrawals were so bad. I had no fuckin’ energy. At all. I couldn’t even walk 80% of the time. I slept a lot. I tried to wean myself off of it, like, take lower and lower doses, and that helped a lot. My little sister got me through it, I think. She took care of me.” He smiled, breaking eye contact, focusing in on the tent behind Craig. “Oh. Yeah. Forgot to mention, I stopped talking to my connections or suppliers or whatever. I told them to blacklist me.”

“Well, that’s good,” Craig said, hating how  _ boring  _ and  _ monotonous  _ his voice always sounded. Seriously, even if there were no lifts in his voice, he couldn’t be bothered to think of anything interesting to say to Kenny?

Kenny didn’t reply, which left his mind to wander. What could he talk about? He didn’t want to talk about the Randonautica app, that would just creep them out and bring the topic back to Tweek somehow- maybe he could bring up Stan and Kyle?

“So, Stan and Kyle. You think they’re dating?”

Kenny laughed, shaking his head. “No. Stan totally has a thing for Wendy, they’re just close.”

“Stan has a thing for  _ Wendy?  _ How?”

“He stares at her all the time. Stan’s super awkward when he’s around Wendy, he’s just more comfortable around Kyle.”

Craig nodded. That made sense. “Okay. So you don’t think anything about Stan having his arm around Kyle when they sleep? Or is that just me?”

“What?”

“They were cuddling when I got out of the tent.”

Kenny stood up, unzipping the tent and peeking in to see if Craig was telling the truth. He stared for a moment, then zipped the tent door back up. “Wow.”

“Yeah?”

“Wow. Just wow,” Kenny smiled, settling back into his spot. “They’re pretty cute. I can’t see Kyle liking Stan, but I can see Stan pretending to like Wendy to cover up the fact that he likes Kyle. Okay, the more I talk the weirder that sounds. Stan isn’t that smart.” 

Craig let out a small laugh, then shrugged, and the conversation went silent again. Kenny spent a few minutes drinking more beer and staring at the fire. Craig forgot all about the fact that Kenny had given him a can, so he hadn’t touched it since he opened it.

“So… why do you think Cartman wants to be in this with us?” Kenny asked, tearing his eyes away from the fire. “I find it pretty weird.”

He was relieved to finally have a topic to speculate about- one that didn’t involve Tweek, or Stan’s love life. “I’m not sure,” Craig answered. He avoided eye contact with Kenny, instead focusing on the smoke drifting up into the night air. “Maybe he just thinks it’s… fun. Or we’re the only ‘friends’ he has, and he doesn’t want to be left out.”

“That’s actually really sad. Don’t make me start feeling bad for Cartman,” Kenny joked, crumpling up the sides of his beer can and letting it drop onto the ground. “Maybe… he has a thing for Kyle. Or you. I don’t see him liking Stan, and Wendy and I came around too late for it to make sense.”

“Yeah. Kyle’s hot,” Craig spoke without thinking.

Kenny nodded. “Kyle  _ is  _ hot.” He threw a few sticks into the fire to keep it going, before laying down on the grass. “I’m getting tired. Might fall asleep soon.”

“Outside of the tent?”

“I’ve done it before. Homeless people do it every day. Plus, it’s a Denver white suburban neighborhood, I don’t think any animals are going to tear me up here.”

“...Okay,” Craig replied, laying down next to him and toeing his shoes off. It was too cloudy for either of them to see the stars, but they could make out a small sliver of the moon, and that’s what both of them focused on for the rest of the night. Until they fell asleep.


	6. Location Five - Unidentified Private Property

The gang started off with a groggy morning. Kyle was the first to wake up, only to find Craig and Kenny outside asleep on the grass. He stared down at them, before kicking Kenny in the side to wake him up. He didn’t budge at first, so Kyle kicked him again, and could see him starting to open his eyes.

Kyle went off into the trees to take a piss when Wendy woke up. Kenny got up after her, then Craig, which meant Stan and Cartman were the late sleepers.

“So… you guys down to do this again today? I don’t care how creepy it is, it’s actually… exciting. And fun.”

The three of them turned to look at Kenny. “Yeah, it is,” Kyle said. “But… Craig? Are you okay with it? You can take a break if that’s what you need, nobody is going to blame you.”

Craig fixed his hair, glancing at Kyle. “As long as they don’t take me back to South Park I’ll be okay.”

“Oh,” Kyle whispered, surprised. Craig was resilient, wasn’t he? “Well, I’m glad you aren’t uh, taking it too seriously… okay, no, sorry. That sounded stupid. I mean, I’m glad you’re not that affected by it.” Nobody else spoke. Kyle cringed, deciding to change the topic. “Who wants to wake Cartman up?”

“Me. I get to punch him,” Wendy volunteered.

Nodding, Kyle made his way back to the tent. “I’ll get Stan, then.”

It took a while, but Stan woke up, and aided in dragging Cartman to the drivers’ seat in the car. Once he was in, everyone else packed up camp and got back in the car. Craig and Kyle had put the lunchmeat to use and decided to eat sandwiches for breakfast, but nobody else was really hungry.

Stan hit Cartman in the side with his elbow. “Sit up straight. Please.”

“Fuck you,” he whispered, pushing Stan’s arm away. “I’m not your escort, guys.”

“Yes you fucking are. You volunteered for it,” Kyle snapped.

Shaking his head, Cartman started the engine, pulling out of Craig’s driveway. Kyle messed with his hair, checking himself in his phone camera as he did so. His hair had started to frizz due to the humidity in the air- it was still foggy outside, and it was clearly bothering him. Stan watched him from the rearview mirror. “Dude, your hair is fine. It’ll fix itself.”

“Ugh. No it won’t.”

“He’s trying to look good for one of you,” Cartman muttered.

Kyle huffed. “At least I don’t have adult acne.”

“Yes you do,” Craig said.

“Not as much as Cartman. I only have blackheads.”

Wendy nodded. “Cartman’s face is really greasy.. and you can’t even see Kyle’s.” She sighed, leaning between Cartman and Stan’s seats in the front, which was easy considering she was in the middle this time. “Just because he cares about his appearance doesn’t mean he likes someone, Cartman.”

“So he’s just vain.”

“No.”

Cartman shrugged, flicking a piece of wet grass off of the shirt that he’d worn to sleep. Everyone else was dressed for the day, but Cartman didn’t really have a choice to get dressed. “I bet it’s Craig.”

“Stop projecting,” Craig said.

“Cartman, pull off of this road. Here.”

“What?” Cartman asked, turning to look at him. “It’s that close to where Craig lives?”

Stan looked out of the window. “I… guess? They’re leading us to another building, looks like a house this time.”

Wendy sat back in her seat, her hands folded in her lap. “We shouldn’t be going on private property. We could get arrested.”

“...But they clearly want us to see something there. Maybe it’s abandoned,” Stan expanded as Cartman pulled onto said road. “I mean, if someone does live there, we could always say that we got lost and were trying to get to a different house?”

“Stan, we shouldn’t. You know that.”

“But I want to see,” he said. “It’s right here. Stop on the side of the road, we can like, walk up to it.”

Cartman pulled into the grass. Thankfully, it wasn’t a normal suburban neighborhood like Craig lived in- the road was long and surrounded by trees, with the occasional gap leading to a house. Most of the houses had expansive lawns, and all of them had pools. “Why the fuck do they want us here? Are they gonna shoot us? You know how rich people are.”

Kyle sighed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well, they’re rich enough to afford guns.”

Everyone started to get out of the car. “Poor people have guns too. Aren’t you a capitalist? And like, pro-corporation? I didn’t think you had a problem with rich people.”

“Oh, Kyle. You have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Kyle stopped walking. “What?”

“I’m a business major. Obviously I know more than you.”

He opened his mouth, but the way Cartman was speaking had truly baffled him. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Where’s Wendy?”

Cartman, Craig, Kenny, Kyle, and Stan all turned around. She was still in the car. Stan ran back to go talk to her, waiting for her to roll down the window. “Hey, you okay?”

“...I feel sick. You guys can go without me, okay?” she said, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh… are you sure? Do you want me to stay here with you?”

Wendy smiled, shaking her head and dismissing him with her hand. “No, no. It’s okay, I’ll get some water from the trunk. I’ll be fine.”

“...Alright. We’ll tell you what we see, or uh, if anything happens, okay? And if none of us text you for over an hour, call the police.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding again. “Thank you for checking in on me.”

Stan smiled at her. “It’s no problem,” he said, watching as she rolled the window back up. He returned to the boys. “She’s sick.”

To everyone’s surprise, Cartman didn’t accuse her of faking it. He just stood there, waiting as everyone stared at him. “...What?”

“Did you do something? To make her sick?”

“Fuck would I do that for, Kahl? There you go again, always blaming me for everything. Can we go?”

Kyle sighed. “Fine,” he muttered, starting to walk again. It definitely was risky, coming to someone’s house in the middle of the day, but everyone agreed on one thing at this point- the locations were intentional, and they needed to see what the house looked like. As they walked, Kyle grabbed Stan by the arm, walking slower so that they could fall behind the rest of the group. “Hey.”

“Uh, hey. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. I just wanna say… when are you gonna make a move on Wendy?”

Stan blinked. “What, dude?”

“Well, you like her, don’t you?”

“We haven’t even known each other for two days. It’s- why would I already like her?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “You aren’t good at lying. So stop.”

“Okay, fine. I don’t really want to make a move. ‘Cause… she doesn’t even like me? It’ll just be awkward.”

Kyle inhaled sharply, turning away to look at the house. “You don’t know if she likes you or not. She’s better at hiding her emotions than you are.”

“Fine. I’ll do something soon. I don’t know why you care so much though.”

“Because you’re always whining about it?  _ Ohh, I don’t have a girlfriend because I’m too pissy to download Tinder and make any moves, Kyle, help.  _ Just go for her.”

Stan couldn’t help but laugh at Kyle’s impression of him.. because he was completely true. “Okay. But what if we start dating and then I don’t like her anymore?”

“Break up with her then.”

“You make it sound easy.”

Kyle let go of his arm. “I’d rather get broken up with than get led on.”

“Guys, someone’s home,” Craig yelled back at Kyle and Stan. “Let’s turn around.”

Kyle could see a car in the driveway from where he stood. “Well, why did the app lead us here if they didn’t want us here? It’s probably… safe, guys.”

Craig rushed up to him. “Kyle, do you seriously think that figure thing in the woods was fucking ‘safe’? Do you really think there’s not some redneck with a shotgun in there ready to shoot us if we take another step closer to his house? Let’s leave.”

“Rednecks don’t live in houses like… that. And I really don’t think anybody is going to hurt us.”

“Hey,” Kenny finally said, putting a hand on Kyle’s shoulder to get his attention. “You know how we were saying in the car, that, like… all of the locations were intentional? Maybe uh… they heard. And now they’re throwing us random locations to set us off.”

Kyle shook his head, frustrated. “Why would they do that? We’re already onto them.”

“Yeah. And how would they hear us, anyway?” Stan asked.

“Your phone is tapped, dumbass. Don’t start texting any little girls or the feds will know,” Cartman muttered, pushing past them. “If we aren’t going in the house, there’s no point in standing around and waiting to get shot.”

“Is my phone really tapped?” Stan asked, turning and following Cartman. “Is there a way to tell?”

Kyle, Craig, and Kenny followed him. “You could take it to an AT&T store. I know there’s other ways to tell, but those aren’t reliable. And if you’re being tracked, or if you’re tapped, you need to know about it, dude. That shit is dangerous.”

“Okay. I’ll get an Uber there later today, or after classes on Monday… you wanna come with?”

“Sure, dude. I can pay for the Uber.”

“...Cool.”

The five of them got back to the car, but Wendy wasn’t in the back seat like she was before. They looked around at the surrounding trees, hoping that maybe she had to pee or wanted to get out of the car, but Kyle decided to go behind the car. She was sitting in the grass leaning against the trunk, bawling her eyes out. “Wendy,” Kyle spoke, kneeling down next to her. “Hey. Did something happen? Do you feel worse?”

“Tell Cartman to-” she spoke, sobbing as she looked up at Kyle. “Tell him to fucking take me h-home, right now. I can’t do this. These people know who we are, okay?” Wendy whispered, her eyes wide as tears continued streaming down her face. 

Kyle’s heart dropped in his chest. He looked back to the driveway of the house, wondering who lived there. It was clearly a sentimental place for Wendy, because something similar had happened to Craig. How did the app know about this shit? “Okay, I will. I’ll talk to him. Want me to help you up?”

At this point, everyone else was watching Kyle and Wendy talk behind the car. Wendy shook her head, getting to her feet, albeit shakily. “I can do it myself. I just need to go home for a little bit, okay? I don’t know if I can keep doing this thing.”

“Did something happen? Do you know who lives here?” Kyle pressed further, needing answers.

“Kahl, you’re fucking stupid. Obviously something happened. You don’t need to interrogate her. Get your ass in the car.”

Kyle whipped around to face Cartman. “Oh, really?  _ Get my ass in the car,  _ Cartman? Fuck you, dude. I’m just asking. And no, I’m not gonna  _ get my ass in the car,  _ I’d much rather walk or call an Uber than do anything that you fucking tell me to do,” he snapped, shoving Cartman backwards. “Fuck off, you piece of shit.”

Kenny’s eyes widened. He gave Craig an enthralled look, watching as Stan put a hand on Kyle’s arm. “Dude. Kyle, are you-” Stan spoke, getting cut off.

“I’m fine! Just shut the fuck up!”

“...Okay.”

Kyle pushed Stan away gently. “Sorry. I… let’s go home now. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, dude.”

“...Okay…” Stan repeated, leaving Kyle’s side. Wendy was already in the back seat of the car. He got in the passengers’ seat silently. 

Cartman drove all of them to Wendy’s house in a tense, stiffening silence. Nobody was brave enough to speak, so the only sounds in the car were Wendy’s faint sniffles and the distant sound of Kenny’s earbuds blasting in his ears. 


	7. AT&T Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some speculation, Kyle and Stan decide to go to the AT&T store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; MENTION of POSSIBLE abuse, no actual abuse

“Guys, now that Wendy is gone, I think we should go back.”

Cartman nearly pulled over to yell at him, but decided against it. “Really? You want to break into a house?”

“Well, Cartman, I don’t see why you’re so against it. You seem like you would enjoy doing those types of things,” Kyle pointed out. “Can we all go to someone’s house tonight? I want to talk about this thing, like, in-depth. Craig, you don’t have to come if you don’t want. But it would be nice if you did.”

“My house,” Craig volunteered. “I don’t know where Kenny lives, but I’d hate to have to explain to everyone else in your student housing what the fuck we’re doing.”

Kyle frowned. “Right. Thanks, Craig.”

The five of them wound up in Craig’s living room, having dropped Wendy off earlier in the midst of her panic attack or nausea spell or whatever the hell it was. The boys couldn’t agree on one solid thing, so for now, it was a “breakdown.” Kyle stood at the end of the coffee table with a whiteboard, while everyone else sat on the L-shaped couch.. “Okay. So, the last two places it brought us to were really personal places for Craig and Wendy.”

“No.”

“What, Cartman?” Kyle huffed.

“You don’t know if it was or not. It was just some dude’s house,” he muttered. “She could be crying for no reason. She’s a girl.”

Rolling his eyes, Kyle’s gaze landed on Craig, who looked like he had something to add. “What?” he snapped unintentionally, the annoyance from Cartman starting to seep out.

“We should get rid of Stan’s phone while we talk. If it is tapped.”

“Oh.” Kyle yanked Stan’s phone out of his hands, dropping it in the dirt somewhere in the backyard. When he returned, Stan was glaring at him. “Does anybody have a theory as to why Wendy was crying?”

Cartman sat up straight. “Hormones.”

“Dude, my phone wasn’t tapped. They can’t do that. It’s just an app, they would need to give me a virus to do it, right?”

“Yeah?” Kyle asked, tilting his head. “If your phone wasn’t tapped somehow, why would these people know that Craig and Wendy are with us, and bring us to sentimental places that they knew would freak them the fuck out? I’d love to see you explain that.”

The room went silent. “Maybe she was abused,” Kenny spoke. “And that’s where her abuser lives.”

Kyle nodded slowly. It made sense. He wrote the words “abuser” and “sentimental” on the whiteboard, and drew a small house in the corner, then made arrows connecting the words and the drawing. “But if.. why would she hide it from us?”

“People are like that, Kyle. I think we should stop bringing it up around her. Seriously.” Kenny’s gaze fell on Craig. “Can I steal something from your fridge? I haven’t ate anything since this morning, I won’t take too much.”

“Go ahead.”

Kenny rummaged through the kitchen, but was still close enough to the living room to hear what Kyle was saying. “...Okay.. we know why they brought us to the cemetery, so uh…” he murmured, sloppily writing “cemetery,” “craig,” and “tombstone” on the board. “What about the old mill?”

“The figure. The thingy that was watching us. That’s why, probably.”

“But why was it there to… watch us or whatever? Like, if it was a person, why didn’t it move?” Kyle asked, bringing his hand up to his mouth and starting to chew on his nails. “Fuck. I’m lost.”

Craig gave him a look, implying that they needed to revisit the mill. “...Okay. I’m going to go to the AT&T store with Stan, you guys go back to the mill. Take pictures. See if you can find that… thing.”

Kenny emerged from the kitchen. “Why do we have to go with Cartman?”

“Don’t know. Stan and I will get an Uber, nobody’s tracking your phone so I think you guys are good to go. Safe, I mean. But take a gun or hunting knife or something just in case.” Kyle wiped the whiteboard off with the palm of his hand. “Let’s go, Stan.”

-

The Uber ride to the AT&T store was uneventful. Kyle spent the whole time on his phone googling what information someone could get from your phone while you were tapped, and Stan spent it looking at other news cases involving the app. All of the recent ones were hoaxes, which was pretty disappointing.

He opened Snapchat, and considered texting Wendy to see how she was doing. He opened her chat.

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ hey wendy, im sorry you were upset earlier _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ if you want to talk or if you need anything i’m here for you _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ hope u feel better _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ ok sorry for botherninng you bye _

He stared down at the chat. His old username was so stupid- sparkys04? After his fucking dog and old football number? He couldn’t really blame his 12 year old self for choosing the username, but he wished he was able to change it.

**_tburgers:_ ** _ Thanks, Stan. I need time for myself though. _

**_tburgers:_ ** _ And I’m not romantically interested in you. Sorry. _

**_tburgers:_ ** _ You guys have fun. _

Stan bit his lip, grateful that he wasn’t led on, but frustrated at the fact that she mentioned it at all. It wasn’t like he asked her out or anything. 

The car stopped, and he followed Kyle into the AT&T store.

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ k _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ getting my phone checked to see if its tapped ill let u know how it is _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ goes _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ bye _

Kyle turned to look at him. “You texting Kenny or Craig?”

“Uh, no. Wendy.” He set his phone on the front counter, watching as Kyle leaned against it. “Should I text Kenny and Craig?”

“Yeah. See how it’s going with them. Why were you texting Wendy?”

Stan shrugged. “...Wanted to see how she was doing.”

“Dude. She needed alone time.”

“Yeah. That’s what she said. She also said she didn’t like me, so that’s… cool.”

Kyle gave him an exasperated look. “You  _ asked her out,  _ after she had a fucking mental breakdown?”

“No! I didn’t ask her out, I didn’t even say I liked her!”

“...Wow. Woman repellent,” Kyle teased, watching as a worker finally came to the front desk. “No offense.”

The worker smiled at them. “Hi, how can I help you guys today?” she asked, gaze falling on the phone laid out in front of her. “Having any problems?”

“Yeah. I think my phone is tapped.”

“Why is that, sir?”

Stan opened his mouth to speak. He wasn’t just about to admit that he thought his phone was tapped because a  _ stupid phone app  _ was bringing him back to the grave of his friend’s deceased ex-boyfriend. “Uh…”

“Well, we have a reason to believe that someone we know did it. So is there a way to tell if it is or not?” Kyle asked, saving Stan from screwing up.

The woman pursed her lips. “Sorry, sir. Only the government can tap your phone, and they need a warrant to do so. For example… doing something  _ illegal  _ can give them a warrant _ , _ ” she said, leaning closer to Stan. “You don’t have anything to hide if you’re not doing anything illegal.”

Kyle’s face reddened. “Oh, so it’s perfectly fine for the government to just track your phone if you are innocent? What about protecting your location? You’re saying you would let the government track you for your entire life?”

“If you don’t want to be tracked by the government, don’t do anything bad. Or don’t have a phone to begin with.”

He rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. Fuck you, lady. The government isn’t innocent. You ever heard of MKUltra? What about when they tested AIDS medicine on foster kids or gave syphilis to black dudes? The government is full of sick, power-hungry rich people and pedophiles on a power trip.”

The woman looked unphased. “Your friend isn’t tapped.”

Kyle huffed. “I’m not even worried about the government tapping his phone, I’m worried about a fucking  _ criminal  _ doing it. Just because only government officials can get warrants to search your house doesn’t mean a robber can’t bust open your window and search through it too. You need to get off of your fucking high horse and f-”

“Kyle!” Stan shouted, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Dude, calm down! We need to go, okay?”

Kyle stopped his rambling, his face flushed from yelling at the woman. “Fuck you. Cunt,” Kyle muttered, letting Stan guide him out of the store after grabbing his phone from the counter. Once they were outside, Stan gave him some time to compose himself.

“Sorry. But god, I hate that woman. She’s so fucking stupid. Criminals can find ways around  _ anything,  _ it’s not just the government, you know?”

Stan nodded understandingly. “I get it. We could try another AT&T store in the area? Or a Verizon store? Or Virgin Mobile... do they do stuff like that?”

Shrugging, Kyle sat down on the pavement outside of the store. “Come. Sit,” he said, patting the space next to him. Stan sat next to him, his phone resting on his lap. “I read some stuff on Google about phone tapping. It might not be accurate, but if that bitch in the store isn’t going to help us, we have to figure it out ourselves. Unless you’re okay with it being tapped.”

“...Don’t we need it to be tapped? In order for them to like, um, give us locations?”

“They can give us locations through the app. The only reason they wanted to tap your phone was to know who you talk to and get your information and shit, that’s probably how they knew about Craig and Wendy. We can still go to the locations, they just won’t know where we are, and um.. who you call and text. Okay?”

Stan nodded slowly. That made sense.

“Cool. So have you noticed any like, weird noises when you call people?”

“...I don’t call anybody, Kyle.”

“What? Why not?”

Stan adjusted his legs. “I mean, you’re the only person I talk to outside of the group… if I want to visit my mom, I just drive out there, you know? And we sleep in the same room, so it’s not like… I need to call you a lot or anything.”

Kyle frowned. Stan’s life was way sadder than he imagined. “You can call me at any time for anything, okay?”

“...Okay,” he muttered, looking away in embarrassment. “Um, what were you saying?”

“So, most people, when their phone is tapped, they hear like… weird noises over calls. Has your battery been decreasing more? Or do you get, like, weird texts?”

“...No. Well, my battery has always been really bad. I have an old-ass phone, dude.”

Kyle took it from his hands. “It’s only an iPhone 7. It’s not that old.”

“Yes, it is. It crashes all the time and sometimes it gets so bad that I can’t even watch videos.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know! Am I supposed to be keeping track of this?”

Kyle rolled his eyes and turned Stan’s phone on, staring at the notification screen. He had no notifications. Kyle felt even worse for him. “Has it started recently?”

“...No. It was a month or two ago, so way before I downloaded the app.”

Kyle blinked. “What the fuck? Well, has it gotten worse?”

Stan nodded.

“Here. I’m going to call you, and then we’ll walk away from each other so we don’t get those screeching noises. Then you tell me if you hear any weird noises in the background.”

Stan unlocked his phone and called Kyle. They both went to opposite ends of the parking lot, listening closely for any static-y or abnormal noises that weren’t just the wind blowing past the speaker. “Woah, dude. That’s weird,” Stan said over the line.

“Hm?”

“It’s there. It’s definitely there, my phone is tapped.”

Kyle nodded. “Come back in front of the store. Has your phone ever been jailbroken?”

‘Huh?” Stan asked as he walked, hanging up when he saw Kyle. The two of them sat back down where they were before.

“You don’t know what jailbreaking is?”

“Not everyone can be as smart as you are,” he huffed. “No. I don’t.”

Kyle opened Safari, opening a few tabs and switching between the three of them, reading sections of each. “Well, you’re smart. Just not in the same way. Can I see your phone?” he asked, turning his own phone off and setting it on the pavement. Stan unlocked his phone and handed it to him. Kyle stared at the screen, primarily at his home screen behind all of the apps. “That’s cute.”

“What’s cute?”

“Your screensaver. It’s just cute,” he said, opening the Settings app.

Stan pulled his legs to his chest. “How is it cute? It’s just us.”

“I know.. that’s why it’s cute. Um, anyway.” He squinted down at the letters. “I read that if we update your phone, it… undoes the jailbreak or the tap or whatever. It might be fake but we can try it.” He hit something on the screen and the phone immediately started to update, the small bar in the middle of the screen growing as time passed.

“Why didn’t you do that from the start?”

“Well, if your phone was tapped before, and we update this, and it’s still tapped, we’ll know by listening to the audio over the call.”

...Stan started to feel stupid. “Oh.”

Once Stan’s phone updated, they went to opposite sides of the parking lot like before and called each other. This time, the audio over the phone call was pristine.


	8. The Mill: Revisit

Cartman retraced the directions to the mill in the woods. Kenny and Craig sat in the back seat and talked quietly, leaving Cartman out of their conversation, although Cartman didn’t seem to mind. They mostly talked about college, Kenny trying to keep Craig’s mind off of the situation despite the fact they were revisiting one of the places that started everything.

Craig was having his own personal dilemma. The app and locations it brought him to were interesting, but how serious was this thing going to get? Aside from phone tapping and stalking, both of which were illegal, what else were these people going to do? He was already weirded out, and he didn’t want to continue if there was any chance they could be in danger.

He wondered how the person in control of the app got his information. Craig hadn’t downloaded the app once- he wasn’t aware of its existence before Kyle invited Craig to go with them, and Stan finally explained what it was. The locations were creepy, but what they were experiencing was far exceeding the attention-seeking white girls on TikTok who would walk to the nearby cemetery and claim that spirits were “communicating” with them. They had encountered an empty building in the middle of a cornfield, littered with pearly-white bones, a creepy mill in the middle of the woods with a mysterious “person” watching them, a dried-up pool of blood near a train track, his ex-boyfriend’s  _ grave  _ in an extremely obscure small town, and a fancy house in his neighborhood that made Wendy Testaburger have a full-blown panic attack. It seemed as if the app were on a streak, revealing eerily personal locations to each of them ever since it brought them to South Park. Who would be next? Kyle? Kenny? Cartman?

Cartman’s ‘sentimental place’ would be interesting. But that wasn’t really the point of being brought to these locations.

When would it stop?

Craig wondered if, one day, the six of them would go to reveal a new location and nothing abnormal would happen. It would lead them to somewhere innocent, like a lake, or a normal building in the city like a library or an ice-cream shop. What would he do? Would the ‘mystery’ be over? Would they  _ never  _ understand the pool of blood, or the animal bones?

Suddenly, Craig knew the answer to his dilemma. As personal and as traumatizing as it could get, he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without understanding who was behind this, and the intention.

Briefly, he entertained the thought that Stan, Kenny, Kyle, or Cartman was behind it all. But it didn’t make sense. Stan and Kenny would never do something like that. Cartman, maybe, but if he was behind it, why would he go with them? Why would he escort them? Kyle wouldn’t, either- and there was no way Kenny was behind it.

It just didn’t make sense.

“You okay?” Kenny asked, looking him up and down. “We’re here.”

Craig nodded and got out of the car. It was 1 PM, so thankfully they didn’t need flashlights this time, and there was less of a chance they would get lost or lose each other.

Also less of a chance of not getting murdered, but not by much.

Craig was not excited to have to walk for hours and hours through the woods again, but he did it, entertaining himself with his own thoughts as he trudged through the thick stems and tall grass. On the bright side, walking through nature and visiting locations with these guys (minus Cartman) was a good break from schoolwork. Craig had a habit of piling up his assignments, finishing them all as fast as possible with no breaks, and never looking at the papers again until he turned them in to the professor. It was nice to be reminded to take his time. That college isn't everything. He could still have a life  _ and  _ do school work. Craig suspected that Wendy felt the same way, although she seemed like she had a schedule and took regular breaks. 

Oh. He almost forgot about Wendy.

Craig pulled his phone out of his pocket just as he was coming into the clearing. He scrolled through his notifications before deciding against texting Wendy- if it needed to be done, someone else would’ve gotten in contact with her. Plus, they didn’t even know each other that well. 

“Why is it creepier during the day?” Kenny asked, walking around the buildings as he looked them up and down. Craig shrugged, opening a message from the group chat.

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Stan’s phone was tapped. We fixed it. How are you guys doing? _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ When you come back home, I suggest calling me and listening to the audio over the call. See if there’s anything weird in the background. _

**_cuck_ers:_ ** _ K _

**_cuck_ers:_ ** _ We’re here _

Surprisingly enough, the messages delivered. Craig wondered if there were any cell towers around. That would explain it. He looked up at the sky, but couldn’t see anything- duh. They were in the woods.

They walked over the rocks in the creek and immediately spotted the figure, except this time, it  _ definitely  _ wasn’t a person. It was a stick, standing upright, with a loose black cloth around it. Craig walked closer, inspecting it. Two different sticks surrounded it, supporting the cloth, giving it the illusion of shoulders. 

He tore the cloth away. On top, the ‘head,’ was a camera.

Craig’s eyes widened. He stepped away from it, not wanting to be in its lens, although it was most likely too late.

Was it even on? How was this camera supposed to work, was it… connected to something? Craig stood behind it and started fidgeting with the thing, and it didn’t take him long to find a compartment for the batteries.

“Woah… so someone was recording us?” Kenny asked, joining Craig behind the camera .

Cartman stood in front of the camera, panting lightly. His face was sticky with sweat. “Are you fuckin’ seriouahs, guys? We came all the way for a shitty camera?”

“It’s actually pretty expensive,” Craig pointed out. Minus the fact that it had severe water damage from sitting outside for a week. Whoever was doing this thing, they had a lot of money, or didn’t care about destroying things. Craig took a few steps back and saved pictures of the camera, sending them to Kyle in the group chat. “And it was recording me and Kyle. It was pointing right at us when we were in the mill.”

Kenny shook his head. “That’s creepy as shit.”

“Yeah. Well, I took pictures for Kyle. I think we can go now,” Craig said, pocketing his phone. He started to walk away from the camera.

“Craig?”

“What?”

Kenny was still next to the stick and the camera. “I think we should take it. What about fingerprints? Here, I’ll untie it.”

“Fingerprints? Who would we check for a match?”

Kenny shrugged. “Just in case.” He started to untie the camera from the stick holding it up.

“We don’t have a plastic bag or anything to hold it in. Any fingerprints that are already there will just get smudged by our own. Come on, we won’t find a match.” It was too late- Kenny had already undone the rope. He zipped his jacket up and carried the camera like a baby in his arms, careful not to let the jacket touch his skin. It was a smart solution, and it worked, but Craig knew there was little to no chance of getting anywhere with it. If anything could help them.. it would be replaying anything that was already saved on the camera.

“...Fine. We need to go, though, come on.”


	9. Flower Analysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that i haven't updated for a couple days! kinda fell out of the loop

Kenny, Craig, and Cartman filed into the living room, Kenny still holding the water damaged camera in his jacket like a baby. “Set it down and don’t touch it. I have surgical gloves somewhere. I’ll get rice too,” Craig mumbled, heading to the bathroom.

“What do we need rice for?” Kyle asked, standing up from the couch. Fortunately, Craig lent him a key in case of emergencies and they were able to let themselves in the house, seeing as Kyle and Stan finished up at the AT&T store first. He watched Kenny dump the camera on the coffee table. “...What the fuck is that for?”

“Did you guys find that somewhere?” Stan asked from his corner of the couch, staring down at the camera. “You went back to the mill, right?”

Kenny nodded, smoothing his jacket back down on his chest. “You didn’t get Craig’s texts? He led us to the… thing, whatever was watching you guys. Turns out it was a camera tied to a couple sticks. That’s why it looked like a person.”

Kyle shook his head in disbelief. “No, his messages must not have sent.” He stared down at the camera. The brand name of the camera was scratched off, presumably by sandpaper. Kyle wondered why. “So, you’re gonna put it in rice and see if you can watch the videos? I don’t know if, um… I mean, it seems like it’s all dried out now, right?”

“It rained the night before we went to the train track,” Craig pointed out. He plopped down a box of unused surgical gloves on the counter. “The camera can still be wet in the cracks, he said it wouldn’t work right if it were still wet and we tried to go back to watch the footage. Oh. If you’re going to touch the thing, put them on,” he reminded them.

Stan frowned. “I don’t think much will happen if we check it for fingerprints.”

“And why not?” Kenny said, pulling a pair of gloves out of the box and guiding them over his fingers, snapping them when they got to his wrists.

“Well, who are we going to ask to compare prints to? We’re not getting the FBI involved in this shit. Not like they’d care anyway.”

Kenny picked the camera up. “We should still be careful and save the fingerprints.” He stared at it, running his finger over one of the screws on the back. “Craig. Do you have a screwdriver?”

Kyle narrowed his eyes at Kenny. Kenny was being extra careful as of lately, as opposed to his normal, carefree nature. 

Or maybe he was just being smart for once.

It took a minute, but Craig returned to the living room with a screwdriver. “Don’t fuck it up. If you wanna take it apart, that’s fine, but-”

“I’m not. I’m getting the batteries out before we put it in rice,” Kenny explained.

“Are you supposed to do that?” 

“...I think so?” 

Kenny picked up the screwdriver and got to work on the back side of the camera, taking out the batteries. While Kenny deconstructed the camera and took out the cards, Craig poured a bag of rice into a large glass bowl. He brought it over to the coffee table and set it down, dropping the batteries in. “If these don’t work, I don’t have any spares. Someone’s gonna have to bring some,” Craig said.

Cartman stood in the corner near the door, on his phone. Kyle took note of this and made eye contact. “Catfishing someone on Tinder? Hoping they’ll love you?”

“What I’m doing is none of your business.”

Kyle sunk back into the couch. “Wow. Suspicious. I think we should take your fingerprints first and compare them to the ones on the camera,” he said, watching as Kenny pushed the camera down into the bowl of rice, making sure it was completely covered on top. He sunk the SD card down next to it.

Kyle knew Cartman couldn’t be behind it. The locations required a lot of walking around, and that was not Cartman’s thing.

“I’m texting Wen-dee. Gawd,” he huffed, turning his phone off and slipping it back in his pocket. “Still trying to work on the stupid camera that isn’t going to get you anywhere? It’ll only show you and Craig walking around in the mill.” Cartman gave a sly smile. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Right. Texting Wendy, because you definitely care about her.”

Cartman didn’t say anything else. Instead, he wandered into the kitchen and cracked open a diet Pepsi, leaning against the counter.

“Diet doesn’t seem like you,” Kyle said. 

Cartman shrugged. It was obvious he wasn’t into having a conversation right now. Kyle looked around at Craig, Kenny, and Stan- ever since the three of them returned from the mill, Kenny and Cartman had been acting weird. Especially Cartman. Craig seemed pretty normal. 

Kyle glanced at Stan, and then back down at his lap. “So we just wait for this thing to dry, even though it is already dry?”

“I guess,” Kenny answered.

“Cool.” Stan stood up. “I’m gonna use the bathroom, you guys think of something to do.” He stood up, then closed and locked the bathroom door.

Kyle looked over at Kenny. “Any ideas?”

Kenny fished his phone out of his pocket. “Actually, yeah. Craig, you can leave if this is too much for you, but there were, um.. flowers next to Tweek’s grave. Do you know anyone who might’ve put them there? I can show you a picture.”

“Nobody. Tweek’s parents moved away after he died.” Craig stared down at his untied sneakers. “My parents wouldn’t. They’re in Hawaii with my sister. So… nobody.”

“Wait, you have a sister?” Kenny asked, holding his phone loosely in his hands. “How come I didn’t know?”

Craig shrugged.

“I have a sister too. She’s fourteen.”

He blinked. “Mine is fourteen too. Her name is Tricia.”

“Okay,” Kyle said as Stan got out of the bathroom. “You two are getting annoying. Just show me the flowers.”

“Hm?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “I want to see the flowers, Kenny. Different flowers have different meanings. It won’t get us anywhere, but I’m curious. I wanna know what flowers they left.”

“Of course the fag would know about flower meanings,” Cartman sneered from the kitchen.

He sat up straight. “Wow, Cartman! You’ve only said that a million times, you’re so funny. Wendy is really gonna want to suck your dick when she hears that one.” Kyle leaned forward and put his hand out, relieved when Kenny finally set it in his hand- if he had to explain himself again, he was afraid he might’ve combusted. The picture was already open on the screen- all Kyle had to do was identify the flowers.

As Kyle zoomed in to look at the flowers, Stan leaned against him, trying to see too. Kenny and Craig started to talk again, but Kyle did his best to tune them out.

The flowers in the photo were wrapped in a loose, purple paper, tied together with brown twine. The actual flowers were a mixture of reddish-pinkish flowers with longer, curved petals and from what Kyle could see, a small tinge of yellow in the middle, and another type of flower that was pure white, although it closely resembled a dandelion- the period exactly between the yellow petals closing up, but just before sprouting the white, fuzzier seeds.

He realized that it wasn’t a dandelion. It was another type of garden weed- a white clover.

Just to make sure, Kyle set Kenny’s phone down on the coffee table and opened Safari on his own phone, cross-referencing the pictures to see if he was right.

He was.

“Think of me,” Kyle said aloud.

Kenny turned to look at him, his conversation with Craig interrupted. “Huh?”

“That’s what the flower means. I found out that the white ones are clovers. That’s what the clovers mean.”

Craig frowned. “Creepy. I wouldn’t forget about Tweek.”

Kyle shrugged back. “I’ll try to figure out what the other flower is. It’s not a clover, so I don’t really know…” Kyle explained, trailing off when he realized neither of them really cared. Maybe Kenny did- he cared enough to take the pictures in the first place- but they were both caught up in their own conversation. 

“How did you know that?” Stan asked, tilting his head down at Kyle’s phone. “You came up with the, uh, clover one pretty fast.”

Kyle smiled- at least  _ someone  _ was giving him credit. “Instinct? If you wanna help, look up common flowers and see if any of them match this one. Color doesn’t really matter until it comes to the meaning, so focus on the shape of the, um, red ones,” he advised. He took another look at the picture on Kenny’s phone, before returning to his own and searching ‘red flower yellow in middle.’

He googled all of the possible flowers that fit the description, and none of them quite matched the picture on Kenny’s phone. Stan tapped him on the arm, though.

“You find it?”

Stan tilted his phone so Kyle could look at it. “Does this look similar?”

Stan had it right. The text underneath the picture read  _ begonias,  _ and aside from the fact that the flowers in the picture looked a little dead compared to the picture Stan had pulled up, they were pretty similar. “Dude. You got it,” Kyle smiled. He looked back down at his phone and searched ‘begonias meaning.’

He opened a website- a farmers’ almanac website- and scrolled. “It means ‘beware, dark thoughts.’ That’s so edgy. Whoever is doing this has to be fucking with us,” Kyle muttered, turning his phone off.

Everyone turned to look at him. “It means what?” Kenny asked.

“Beware, dark thoughts?”

“So, think of me. Beware, dark thoughts. What does that even mean,” Kenny repeated, looking at Craig. “What are we supposed to do?”

Kyle shrugged. “Beware, I guess?”

“Hey, you guys wanna go to another location? Maybe we can try the camera when we get back,” Stan suggested, grabbing his phone and standing up.

None of the boys were quick to agree with him, but nobody had a better idea, either. The five of them hopped into Cartman’s Honda and watched as Stan pulled up another location.


	10. Active Crime Scene

“Stan.”

Stan craned his neck to look back at Craig. “ _What?”_

“Tell me where it is this time. I want to know before we just get out of the car and wind up in front of someone’s house.”

“Well, it-” Stan protested, bringing his phone back up to his face. “It doesn’t tell me the names of like, shit that’s nearby. It just shows me a road. And a location. Like, it marks a certain spot. But if you want to do it yourself, and get your phone tapped, go ahead.”

He glared at him. “Kyle fixed your stupid phone.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, we do, Stan,” Kyle spoke up. “The static noise is gone.”

Stan shook his head. “That doesn’t… it doesn’t mean my phone _isn’t_ tapped. It just means the audio over the call doesn’t sound like shit anymore.”

“Fine.”

“Left or right?” Cartman asked, hitting the breaks.

He glanced at the screen. “Right.”

“Are we going back to that house? If we’re not breaking in, there’s no point,” Craig repeated.

Stan shrugged. “It looks like it. Maybe there’s something there this time? Or someone could be waiting?”

“...You _want_ to see someone waiting for us?” Kyle asked, stiffening. 

“Well, no. But maybe it’s the person behind it.”

“...Okay,” Kyle concluded. “Well, if it’s gonna keep bringing us back to the same house, we should try someone else’s phone. But I’m not sure how… the person controlling this will know that we went to the location or not.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “They have our location. How do you think they give us other locations? Because they know where we are,” Craig pointed out.

He sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“Another right,” Stan said. Cartman turned right, down the same road they were led to that morning.

Craig raised an eyebrow. “I bet we’re gonna get killed.”

Nobody spoke. Not until Cartman passed the driveway leading to the house. Stan turned, looking out of the window. “What the fuck?”

Kyle, Kenny, Craig, and Cartman all turned to see what Stan was talking about. In front of the house, there was a squad of cop cars, and the house was sectioned off by yellow caution tape. “Shit… keep driving, Cartman! Go! Don’t slow down, they’ll suspect us and pull us over, dude!” Stan warned, motioning for him to keep driving. He kept his eyes on the cop cars, trying to see if any of the policemen were outside of the house and watching them.

Shaking his head, Cartman continued driving down the road, waiting until they were safe to turn around in someone’s driveway. “What the fuck was that about?” Stan asked, turning to look at Kyle.

“What? Why are you asking me?” Kyle said, breaking eye contact with Stan to look out of the window again. “I didn’t do anything. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know. But why were we _there_ earlier?”

“Wendy fucking killed someone,” Craig answered. When Kyle gave him a semi-horrified, questioning look, he replied, “Obviously. Why else would she cry? She was scared we were going to go in and see a dead person.”

Stan closed the Randonautica app on his phone. “She wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Nobody thought Ted Bundy would kill anyone. That’s why so many women fucked him.”

“Oh my god, Craig,” Kyle spoke. “She’s not a murderer.”

Craig frowned. “Cool. Then explain why she was crying.”

“Maybe she was scared for her safety, and that’s why she didn’t go inside the house,” Kenny said, finally speaking up. He spent the last few minutes very deep in thought, something he didn’t do often. “It would explain why she was so hesitant for us to go inside. Or maybe she was fake crying to keep us from going in there and getting hurt. Or maybe… since the guy behind the app couldn’t get us, they got someone else instead? Whoever lives there, I guess?”

“So, either way, Wendy has something to do with this,” Craig repeated to clarify.

“...Guess so,” Kyle said reluctantly, slouching against the car door.

Stan wasn’t having any of it. “Or she didn’t know anything about what just happened, and she didn’t want to go into someone’s fucking _house._ The app was getting too real for her or something.”

“Someone should call her,” Craig said.

“She wants to be left alone,” Kyle protested, although he did think it would be a good idea to question her. He thought on it for a moment, and changed his mind. “Well, if you’re going to do it, ask if she feels better first. Get to her before whatever happened at the house gets on the local news.”

Craig nodded in agreement. “That’s smart. Maybe you should do it, you know her best.”

“Fuck. What do I say?” Kyle asked, pulling his phone out of his front pocket, suddenly remembering that Cartman was texting her before they got in the car. It wasn’t incriminating. Only odd. “I’ll call her, but like…”

“Ask if she feels better, and then ask why she was crying. Or if she knows who lives in the house. So, what you just said,” Craig advised. “Everyone needs to be quiet so Wendy thinks you’re alone.”

“She’ll hear that I’m in the car. She’ll know.” Cartman was still driving, although he was heading back to Craig’s house this time instead of to the crime scene. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’ll call.” Kyle pulled up Wendy’s contact and hit the call button, holding his iPhone up to his ear as he waited for a response.

Surprisingly enough, she answered, and pretty quickly. “Oh, hi Kyle!” Wendy chirped. “Sorry about earlier. Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good,” Kyle answered, fake-smiling, even though she couldn’t see him. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh. I’m feeling so much better, actually. Thanks for checking on me, all three of you.”

Three? Kyle knew Stan checked on her while they were at the AT&T store, but he didn’t think Cartman was _checking_ on her when he was texting her earlier. That was just out of character. Kyle fake-smiled again- fake-smiling helped him put on a better fake voice, he discovered. “Of course. Uh… just want to ask, were you really crying because you were nauseous?”

“I-” Wendy mumbled. Kyle heard a _thump_ noise on the other end of the line, probably Wendy hitting her finger on the speaker or something. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Sorry.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Because you did something, right?”

“Kyle!” Stan whisper-yelled, gesturing with his hands for Kyle to stop. Kyle rolled his eyes, waiting for Wendy to answer. In his opinion, Stan was stupid to defend her- it was probably because he still liked her or whatever.

“Uh, I-... no. I didn’t. I just don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Guess what?”

Wendy took a while to respond. “What?”

“We just drove by the house. There were police cars. They’re doing an investigation, so we need to know if you have something to do with this to cover our asses, alright? We were _there_ earlier. We got out. We stood in front of the house. Rich people have cameras. The police can identify our faces, and then they’ll know who we are, and we’ll get interrogated, and probably framed. So come fucking clean.”

Everyone except for Cartman stared at Kyle, surprised. Kenny had his eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t!” Wendy yelped, clearly upset. “I didn’t hurt anybody. I promise, okay? If he’s dead or hurt in there, I didn’t have anything to fucking do with it, so don’t put this on me!”

Kyle’s jaw gaped slightly. He didn’t expect an outburst from her. Denial, maybe, but not an outburst. “I just want to know what you have to do with the house. Okay? Just answer, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I already told you guys,” she sniffled. 

Kyle didn’t expect tears, either… maybe Kenny was right, and the topic was sensitive for her. But if the house was sentimental, she wouldn’t cry, or freak out, or demand Cartman to drive her back home. “And I don’t believe you. If you had nothing to do with it, you wouldn’t be- uh- have started crying when we pulled up to the house. At least tell us who lives there if you aren’t going to tell us anything else.”

Wendy hung up on him.

Annoyed, Kyle let his phone drop down onto his lap. “Fuck her. I don’t get what her problem is.”

“I told you not to accuse her too hard, dude. You should’ve-”

“I _know!_ Okay, Stan? I fucking know. But I don’t get why she’s keeping it a secret, it’s only making everything one-hundred times more difficult. If the police fucking interrogate us, I’m pointing the finger at her. I don’t care.”

Stan reached back to rub Kyle’s shoulder. He was turned around in his seat now. “She’ll tell us eventually, okay?”

Kyle only shook his head. From the driver’s seat, Cartman let out a snicker. “What?” Kyle snapped, narrowing his eyes. “What’s so fucking funny to you? That someone is dead or hurt, and Wendy won’t tell us what she has to do with it?”

“She told me.”

“What? No she didn’t.”

Cartman only smiled.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Cartman. Don’t lie about shit like this.”

“Stan, contain your bitch.”

“ _Cartman!”_ Kyle screamed. “Tell me what Wendy fucking told you!”

Cartman continued driving, calm. “One of her professors lived in that house. Mr. Garrison. She fucked him. That’s why she was crying. She regretted it.”

Kyle went silent, because, well… he kind of believed it. Stuff like that happened more often than most people expected. He pulled out his phone and searched ‘Mr. Garrison,’ trying to picture what the guy would look like. “Wait. He’s _old,_ though. Why would she fuck him?”

The man in the picture was old. Abnormally old to be a college professor. Mr. Garrison was more than capable of retiring and living comfortably, and the fact that he lived in a fancy house only amplified that fact.

“Grades,” Cartman explained.

Kyle narrowed his eyes. Wendy was smart. Why would she need to sleep with him to get her grades up?

“He’s ugly? Let me see him,” Craig demanded. Kyle handed his phone to Craig, leaning back against the door and zoning out as Craig started to pass the phone around.

When they returned to Craig’s house, they decided that, despite the weird circumstances, they had to sleep. It wasn’t dark yet, but they were all worn out, and not only mentally. Kyle and Stan slept on the couch, Craig in his bedroom, and Cartman on the loveseat.

Kenny was last to fall asleep. After he showered and washed his face in the bathroom, he slipped underneath the blankets with Craig, not wanting to deal with Cartman’s loud snoring in the living room.


	11. Cartman's Honda

Kyle woke up first. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them with his fists, then turned to the coffee table to check his phone.

It was 11 PM.

Sighing, he got up, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, even if he was still tired. Kyle moved away from the kitchen and walked down the hallway, but stopped when he heard noises from Craig’s room. He stood near the door. Were they talking? He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but… 

Kyle moved closer to the door to listen, and cringed when he realized the two were having sex. Yikes. He decided to piss in the backyard instead, careful to not make any noise as he slid the glass door open.

After he was done, he sat on the porch for about an hour, not returning to the house until he knew Kenny and Craig were asleep. Once he thought he was safe, he rose from the concrete, stepping back inside. He made himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen and sat in the dining room, entertaining himself by reading more stories about the app. Kyle didn’t want to scare himself even further, but it was the only thing on his mind, and he didn’t have anything better to do.

When he was out of stories, he tried to look into the Randonautica website, trying to figure out how they collected data.

It felt like years until someone woke up after him. His head shot up when he heard a noise from the hallway, and he was hoping it was Stan, but was only slightly disappointed when Kenny sat down in the chair opposite of him. “Hey dude,” Kenny spoke, a grin on his face.

“You got some last night, huh?” It was more annoying than anything- now he would have to deal with a couple, along with Cartman. He just hoped Kenny and Craig would keep it to themselves and not put their hands all over each other like the couples in high school used to.

“Yep. When are you gonna hook up with Cartman?”

“No.”

“...Stan, then?” Kenny asked, noticing Kyle’s dwindling cup of coffee and standing up to pour a cup himself. “How much creamer did you put in yours?”

Kyle chewed his lip. “Stop. I’m not going to date anyone. And I suggest you put a shit ton of creamer in there.”

“‘Kay.” Kenny stood at the counter, fixing his cup.

His attention returned to his phone. It was only 3 AM. Kyle let out another sigh, resting his head on the table. He knew he should’ve been back at the living complex at his desk or sprawled out on his bed, music blaring through his earbuds, working on his essay, but there was no way that was going to happen. Even if he were at home, Kyle knew he would be procrastinating. He opened his notes app and wrote a half-assed introduction to his essay, in hopes of periodically chipping away at it as the day went on.

What were they supposed to do today, anyway? Couldn’t he just take an Uber and go back home?

“Ken,” Kyle spoke. “Are we going anywhere today? Like, a new location? Do you think Craig would want to?”

“I do,” he answered, lifting his cup off of the counter and returning to the dining room table. “Craig will probably be okay with it. Are we going to talk to Wendy?”

“If she wanted to come with us, she would’ve messaged us by now.” Kyle narrowed his eyes and rose from his seat, looking into Kenny’s coffee cup. The top was pure white. “You know you could’ve just had milk and creamer, right? How much did you put in that fucking thing?”

“A lot.”

“You’re gonna die.”

Kenny only smiled and took a sip. He swallowed it and set it back down. “Tastes good. I’ll be fine.”

“Damn,” Kyle muttered, looking away. He heard the squeak of the loveseat from the living room and immediately knew that Cartman was waking up.

Cartman entered the kitchen, his brown hair tousled and knotted. He had streaks of dried spit around his mouth. “Kahl,” he spoke, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “Kahl.”

“What?”

“Make me a cup. Not too much sugar.” Cartman turned around and left the living room, presumably to use the bathroom.

Kyle sighed, looking back down at the introductory paragraph to his essay. Admittedly, it was bad. Maybe he could have someone look over it later. Kyle turned his phone off.

It was a pretty slow morning, but Craig ended up making a cup of coffee too, and the four of them sat around talking as they waited for Stan to get up.

“So, we doing anything today, Craig? You feel up to it?”

“Why wouldn’t I feel up to it?” he asked, turning to look at Kenny. “It might be dangerous, but I’m still in this.”

Kenny pursed his lips and looked back down at the chipped dining room table. He was already on his third cup. “I figured, because of Tweek, you’d be hesitant. But I’m glad.” He cleared his throat. “So we’re going when Stan wakes up, if he isn’t busy?”

“Someone should wake him up and ask,” Craig spoke, raising his eyebrows at Kyle.

Kyle took the hint and stood up from the table, sitting down on the edge of the couch to nudge at Stan. He didn’t always have the most gentle approach at waking Stan up, but the most important thing was that it worked. He had plenty of experience waking him up just in time to get ready for his classes, job interviews, internships… and it took a lot to get him out of bed. Kyle felt bad for his parents, whoever they were.

“ _ What? _ ” he eventually snapped after fifteen minutes of Kyle shaking his arms, tearing the blanket off of him, and verbally assaulting him. “I don’t need to be up right now. I only have classes tomorrow.”

“We’re going. Go use the bathroom.”

“Going?” Stan murmured, opening his eyes and looking around. He sat up.

Kyle stood up. “Yes. Going. Come on.”

“It’s still dark outside.”

“And you’ve been sleeping forever! Just sleep in the car. Come on.”

He used the bathroom, put his shoes on, and slammed the car door closed, slouching against it as Cartman started the engine. Stan gave his phone up to Kyle, who was now in charge of the directions in the passenger’s seat. Stan pulled his hoodie over his head and crossed his arms, hoping Cartman would leave the radio off.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Kyle advised, unlocking his phone.

Stan closed his eyes. “You aren’t my mom.”

“I’m not paying for your medical bills when Cartman crashes into a tree and you fly out of the fucking windshield.”

Reluctantly, Stan buckled his seatbelt, thankful for the comfortable vibration from the glass on the side of his head as Cartman drove. It was almost as if he were in high school again- not a good feeling- sleeping in the back of the bus in the mornings, after throwing a pair of jeans on and running to the bus stop.

Those naps were always the best. Better than the desk naps, by far.

“It’s taking us to the fucking house again, Cartman.”

“Well, why are you blaming me? Reset it! It’s not my phone!”

...And there were the bickering freshman that always had to sit near him.

“Guys, if we do go to the house, we have an excuse to drive by if the cops are still there. We can say the app brought us. And it’s true. Take a screenshot, Kyle,” Kenny said.

Everyone’s words were fading in and out. Stan scrunched up his nose, then turned his head to the side, falling back asleep.

-

“You are not going onto an  _ active  _ fucking  _ crime scene!” _

“We’re supposed to  _ investigate,  _ Kaahhl. Driving up and down this road isn’t fun anymore. The app led us here, and this is where we need to be. I’m sure the criminals or whatever will cover for us.”

“Do you fucking hear yourself?” Kyle said, turning to face Cartman in his seat. Stan cringed, then opened his eyes. He really didn’t want to have to deal with this. “You want to walk right into an active crime scene and leave your fucking DNA there. You’re walking right into the trap, and you think the  _ criminals  _ would cover for us? What the hell. You know what? Go ahead. Do it. Put yourself in jail, it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re going to do something stupid to screw us all over anyway, why not do it now?”

Kenny leaned forward. “Come on, let’s just turn around. I’m hungry.”

Cartman was already out of the door, screaming something about how Kyle was a dirty Jew who staged the entire thing and blah blah blah. By then, Stan’s instincts were kicking in, and he knew that if Cartman planted one foot on that property, it could be over for all of them. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car, running after Cartman, half-awake.

“Cartman,” he said, his voice low. “Get back in the car.”

“Why? I wanna see what the crime scene looks like. Come with me, you know you don’t have to listen to him.”

Without thinking, Stan shoved him down onto the pavement. Kyle was standing in front of the car, watching the two of them, his eyebrows furrowed. “See? Everyone thinks it’s a bad idea. Get back in, I bet they have cameras outside of the house to see who visits.” Cartman made no move to get up. Kyle huffed and rushed over to him, yanking his right arm. “Get up!”

“God, whateevveerr, Kahl. I just wanted to see the dead person.”

“The dead person has already been taken to have a fucking autopsy! Get your ass up!”

Cartman got into the car, leaving Kyle and Stan outside, in the headlights. Kyle frowned. “When you get back inside, text me. I want to talk to you about something.” He handed Stan’s phone back to him and crossed his arms. “I’m going to have Cartman drop me off back home, I need to work on an essay. And brush my teeth.”

Stan decided it was time to go home, too. Maybe if they split for a while, they could come back and get another location. Stan got back into the car and opened Snapchat.

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ what _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ I know that I always say this, but Cartman is acting really suspicious. _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Like. _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Why the hell would he want to go back onto the crime scene. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s doing this _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ hes stu;oid _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Not an explanation. _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ When I finish my essay, can you look over it? _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ when im done sleeping _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ and you know imnot good at stuff like that dude _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ I know that you need your beauty sleep to function _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Maybe I’ll take a nap with you. I didn’t sleep for very long _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ haha someone wants to cuddle _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Haha someone is projecting _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ haha _

Kyle turned around to face him, grinning. ‘Do you want to cuddle?’ he mouthed. ‘For real?’

Cartman stopped the car, letting Kenny out on campus. Looking out of the window, Stan pretended to be distracted by Kenny as he walked back to the dorms.

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Don’t hide _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ not hiding _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Just avoiding the question, huh?? Same thing _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ I will be big spoon _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ god _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ o _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ k _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ you win _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ You wanted me to. _

Stan wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he left it on read, turning his phone off and sitting awkwardly as he waited for Cartman to drop Craig off. After Craig was gone, they went back to the student complex, the three of them getting out of the car and racing up the stairs (Stan winning and Cartman in last, of course.) He threw his hoodie off and burrowed himself underneath the covers on Kyle’s bed, squeezing his eyes shut and grinning wildly when he felt Kyle’s chest against his back.


	12. Location Six - Crackhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> currently having a life crisis 😎 maybe i'm projecting onto stan

Everyone had gone their separate ways since the last argument. Kyle hadn’t seen Wendy in what felt like forever- even if it was only late October- and he was relishing in the fact that he was  _ far  _ ahead of his college essays, much unlike he was only weeks ago. The six of them stopped meeting up as often, and although it had a positive effect on Kyle’s mental health and schoolwork, it was having the opposite effect on Stan.

He tried to cheer himself up by lighting festive candles, and tried to clear his mind by opening the window in his bedroom, but to little effect. Stan was stressing out, big-time, and re-evaluating his career path in the first place. The fact that he was only a  _ sophomore  _ in high school eased his doubts a little- he still had time to change his mind, take different classes, and re-think his decisions- but the thing upsetting him the most was that he didn’t know himself. At all.

What did he want out of a career? Stability? A lot of money? Flexibility? Did he want a job he was  _ good  _ at, or a  _ fun  _ job, or a job that challenged him?

There were too many options, too many things that he  _ wanted  _ to pursue, but no answers.

He spent one particular October evening on his bed, window wide open, and a candle named  _ Cozy Gathering  _ lit on his desk at the opposite end of the room, scrolling through college majors on his laptop. He understood that he didn’t have to come to a  _ career  _ decision now, and even if he pursued one career, he could easily change it if he were qualified for a more desirable one, but he was having trouble picking a major. A  _ major,  _ for god’s sake! Zoology and nursing weren’t interesting to him anymore. Psychology classes were another option, but music intrigued him just as strongly, and there was the looming, ever-present agriculture major. Stan knew gardening and farming was hard work, and if he started big, it would be high-risk, high-reward- and if he pursued it, he wouldn’t necessarily have to drop his zoology classes- but something was telling him it wasn’t  _ right.  _ He could plant and water flowers in his spare time. So fucking what? He didn’t have to make his hobbies into a career, and he suspected taking care of so many crops would just stress him out.

“Goddamn it, Stan, it’s so fucking  _ cold  _ in here,” Kyle complained, wrapped in his favorite pale-green throw blanket. Underneath, he had on a University of Denver long-sleeved shirt and a pair of thick sweatpants, but was somehow still chilly to him in the room.

Stan looked up from his computer, not even bothering to hide the tab. “It’s really not.”

“It really is.” Kyle laid down, pulling his legs into fetal position, and craning his neck to look at what Stan was doing. Kyle was naturally nosy, but the fact that Stan wasn’t trying to hide it basically meant he had permission- right? “I told you, major in psychology and minor in music or something. I know you really care about animals, but it’s obvious by how you’re acting that being a vet isn’t right. For you, I mean.”

And why wasn’t it? Just because he was having  _ doubts?  _ “Kyle- do you ever have doubts about, like, going into law? Do you ever feel like you shouldn’t?”

“No. Law is pretty tiring to study, but it’s gonna be worth it.”

“And you’re sure?”

Kyle sat up straight. “You need to get out of this fucking living complex, dude. Why don’t you like, go outside? Opening your window isn’t a substitute.”

“There’s nothing to do.” Stan closed the tab, knowing Kyle was right. He holed himself up in his room, only leaving to grab food, attend classes (that he was growing more and more uneasy about by the second,) and use the bathroom. Not that Stan didn’t normally live that way, but he had such a major stressor on his mind that distracting himself was necessary.

“Take a walk with me. It’s nice outside, maybe, like, you can have a chance to think about what you want to do? Buzzfeed articles can only get you so far, Stan.”

Both of them would be lying if they said Randonautica was the last thing on their minds. It wasn’t. It came up now and again, with an,  _ oh, that was fun, kind of creepy, haha, I’ll go back to it when someone brings it up,  _ but nobody brought it up. It was eating away at them, as slowly and subtly as it could. Whenever Kyle carpooled with Cartman or another student he got along with, he would drive past some of the roads they visited, and he would tense up, wondering what was in store for him if he decided to go at it again. All he had to do was send one text in the group chat. If he wanted to go alone, he could download the app.

Stan met his eyes, and immediately, they communicated the unspoken truth- they wouldn’t  _ forget  _ about the app. No way. They might collectively decide to never use it again, or go as far to delete it and never speak of it, but it would always be a memory they shared, for better or for worse. Craig and Wendy might see it as worse, for sure, but for the rest of them, there was certaintly a thrill in setting an intention and hitting the button, wondering who was behind it all, and what they would set up next.

“We can,” Kyle deadpanned. “Up to you. I mean, I would say wait until winter break to do something like this, but we wouldn’t want to go outside and walk around in December. Plus, how would we all meet up? Everybody would be visiting families, and celebrating holidays, and-”

“Now, then.” He frowned. “Let’s do it now. We don’t need everyone. Cartman is a pushover, and I don’t think Craig or Kenny would care too much about being left out if they’re unavailable, but if Wendy isn’t going to do it, I guess we have to have Cartman.”

So it was settled. They were doing it, now, of all times. Why now? Was the person behind it on-guard? There was only one way to find out. “Alright, I’ll text Wendy. But I feel like Cartman would be pissed if we left him out, and then not agree to drive us around ever again. He is really annoying, but he can give us some good insight, on, like-” Kyle went on. He remembered the morning that Cartman tried to “investigate” Mr. Garrison’s house- who was dead, and whose property was taped off and being forensically analyzed at the time- and shut his mouth. They didn’t need Cartman. He would sabotage them, intentionally or not. “Yeah. Let’s leave Cartman out.”

Stan laughed, then closed his laptop and stepped over to his closet, pulling out clothes at random. Really, he wore the same three things in rotation, and never so much as looked at the rest of his closet, but it was okay. He valued comfort over… well, everything else. “I think Wendy would be honest if something happened again. Especially something like that.” He tore a pair of jeans from the clip hanger and threw them on the bed.

“Would she?” Kyle stood up, looking around Stan’s room. “I’m gonna go get dressed too, I’ll message everyone when I’m done.”

“You are dressed.”

Kyle pursed his lips, for Stan was right, but something about the answer frustrated him. “..Right.”

-

Fortunately, Kenny cared more about a cheap thrill than his classes, and decided to ditch to have Wendy pick him up on campus. And  _ un _ fortunately, Cartman somehow found out about their plan to exclude him, and wedged his way back in.

Kyle let his head rest against the window, unsure of how he even let it happen. Cartman’s promises were empty. He was a master at manipulation, but Kyle knew that- so why did he  _ always  _ get his way?

It wasn’t only Kyle’s fault that Cartman was back in the group. The others had given in, too, namely Wendy and Kenny who were the quickest to take Cartman’s side. Kenny was no surprise to Kyle, but… Wendy? Stan found himself indifferent, Kyle pursuaded by the others, and Craig in strong opposition, so there it was- Craig had no say. Five to one.

“This is so  _ dumb,”  _ Craig muttered, shifting his legs underneath Kenny’s miniscule weight. “Half of us are smart. Why haven’t we come up with a plan to catch this guy yet?”

“Not half. I’d say one-third,” Cartman butted in. With Wendy in the driver’s seat, and Stan giving directions, Kyle was forced in the backseat, between Craig and Cartman- and of course, Kenny, who was on Craig’s lap.

“So, me and Kyle?”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “The only smart ones in this car are Kyle, Craig, and me. With Kenny, it’s pretty fifty-fifty, but I’d consider him smart.”

“No, Wen-dee, I was talking about me and Craig. But seeing as Craig fails to acknowledge it, it might just be one-sixth.”

Stan frowned. “Could you guys shut up?”

“Hey, don’t be offended if nobody is considering you. Maybe-”

“Shut  _ up,  _ Cartman. We’re supposed to be thinking of a fucking plan to catch them. You’re wasting time. If you don’t have any ideas, stop talking.” Kyle crossed his arms, acting as if he finished his sentence, but he thought of something else, and uncrossed them. “Goes for everyone else, too. Craig is right- we haven’t even  _ tried.  _ We saved the camera, but that doesn’t mean it’ll show who set it up or anything. We basically have nothing to go off of.”

Wendy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in thought. “This might be a bad question to ask you guys, but is there any way to see if the locations are pre-determined? If they are, we can always send someone to check the location ahead of time- okay, sending three people would be smarter- and then Stan can activate the location on  _ his  _ phone, to show that we’re coming.” Coming to an intersection, she turned to look at Stan, who gestured to the right. “We have to make sure nobody else is tapped.” Wendy nodded to herself and turned.

“Do you think it’s really a good idea to say our plan with our phones on us? Stan’s could still be tapped. We don’t know anything.” Kenny chewed his bottom lip. “All of us could be.”

Cartman raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, Win-dee.”

“Kyle un-did it,” Craig said.

Wendy sighed. “It’s not for sure. Just probable. There’s no way to be one-hundred percent sure, so we have to be extra cautious. Sorry, guys, I forgot that he was tapped.”

“So, what you’re saying is, let’s not talk about it when we have our phones on us. Right? So, let’s stop talking,” Stan reminded them.

“Right.”

Everyone went silent, unable to think of a new topic to entertain themselves with, and Kyle’s mind fell back on Mr. Garrison.

Surprisingly enough, not many people cared about Mr. Garrison’s death. He wasn’t a well-loved or well-missed teacher by any means, but the school did virtually nothing to honor him. They handed out a measly letter to every student in the cafeteria shortly after he died, but that was… it. Nobody talked about the murder, aside from speculating who would kill him and the ‘details’ of the death (which were nothing further than the time, location, and cause). The city published an article about it, one that Kyle printed out and kept hidden in a folder underneath the pencils and pens in his desk. As extremely underwhelming and undetailed as it was, Kyle did try to analyze the exact wording used, in order to determine if the police were implying anything.

He found nothing.

Personally, Kyle felt he was not on the police suspect list. He had stepped out of the car on the road right in front of the crime scene, but thought it was unlikely that the police wouldn’t identify and question him, if they did see him as a suspect. Of course, it would be easy for the police to dismiss Kyle, Cartman, and Stan as ‘curious college kids’ to explain their behavior in front of the house (assuming there were cameras,) but something about that didn’t feel right to Kyle. If they were spotted near his house, and they attended the school, shouldn’t the police talk to them anyway? That gave them two reasons to get in contact, and police had to follow  _ every  _ lead possible in order to find out who killed Garrison.

Kyle was starting to think that he would make a better P.I. than a lawyer.

“We’re here,” Wendy said, opening the door and stepping out of the car. They took extra steps to ensure that the location would not lead to Garrison’s again (“extra steps” meaning Stan closed the app every time it pointed him there), and were not relieved to find that they were in a neighborhood.

Again.

“Can’t mean good news. I don’t want to be spotted near every single crime scene in the city,” Craig huffed, sliding Kenny off of his lap. “This is bullshit. Why can’t we get an empty factory full of bones, like you guys did the first time?”

Kyle shrugged. “Stan. Is it pointing to one house, or this part of the street?”

“Think it’s a house.” Stan lifted his phone to his face, pointing at the red marker. “Looks like the little yellow one.”

For a moment, Kyle stared at the phone, then turned to look at the shingled yellow house to his right. Surrounded in colorful fall leaves, it looked nothing more sinister than the rest of the neighborhood. “Well… I don’t want to get involved in private property. We’ve avoided it so far, we don’t need to push our luck.”

“But don’t you just want to investigate, Kaahll?” Cartman asked, slapping Kyle on the shoulder. “Come on. Just peek inside. I wanna know what’s in there.”

“You fucking peek. And you go to jail if there happens to be another murder in this area, or the owner of the house calls the police for you fucking stalking them.”

Cartman made no move.

“Come on!” he shouted, redness polishing his cheeks. “I wanna see you do it, fat boy! Go peek in the lovely little old ladies’ house, and get yourself fucking shot. Go!”

“Whatever, gahd,” he murmured, approaching the house. To Kyle’s disbelief, Cartman stood in front of a window on the side of the house, pressed his fat hands against the cold, frosted glass, and looked inside.

Kyle watched him for a moment, trying to see what type of reaction he was having. “Take a picture!” he urged, trying not to be too loud (six young adults peeking into a house was never good news) but needing to get his message across.

Cartman pulled out his phone and took a picture of the inside of the house. Though there was a car in the driveway, it must have been broken down or an alternate car, because nobody flung the front door open and accused them of being a peeping Tom. He went to the next window, snapped a picture, and (Kyle assumed, he couldn’t really watch Cartman from behind the house,) took a picture in every window available.

“What is it?” Stan asked as soon as Cartman came back. 

Cartman opened the pictures and held his phone in his hand, letting everyone see. “Crackhouse. Think they’re making meth, they got sudafed. And spoons out.”

“People make meth with sudafed?” he asked under his breath, analyzing the next picture as Cartman swiped. The second picture was of a bedroom, presumably a child’s, although the curtains were in the way, so it was a little hard to make out. “That’s… dude, why did they bring us here? What the fuck? Like, what’s the point? Do they- want us to report it or something?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle answered, analyzing the pictures just as intensely as Stan was. “Let’s not report, unless Cartman wants to take full blame for looking through the windows.”

“A little kid lives there, dude,” Stan said, squinting as Cartman changed the picture again. “We have to report it. The kid could die.”

He sighed, taking note of how disgusting the kitchen and bedrooms in the photos were. “Or the kid is already dead and we’re wasting our time.” Kyle stepped away from Cartman- he could look at the other photos later, if he really needed to- and sat down in the car, leaving the door open. “Let’s go before someone asks why we’re here. Maybe we can look at another location.”

“So we’re just gonna peek into a crackhouse and take pictures,  _ knowing  _ that there’s a little kid in there, maybe two or three, and leave?”

“I can report it. I’ll leave you guys out of it, I’ll just say- I- um. I’ll come up with something,” Kenny offered.

Everyone turned to look at him. “You sure it’ll work? That the police will believe you?” Kyle asked.

“If Cartman sends me the pictures, sure.”

“...Okay. Well, that’s settled, so can we go?”


	13. Location Seven - Crackhouse #2

Frustrated, Kyle opened the Notes app on his phone and started typing. He listed every location they visited, every detour, and every detail he could think of, including who was there with him and everyone’s attitude at the time. Cartman was raising suspicion on his list, and he was trying to narrow down every ‘suspicious’ thing that Cartman did to see if his actions fit Kyle’s narrative.

The drive was taking hours. Kyle’s intuition was telling him that they were going to arrive at another “personal” location, like Tweek’s grave for Craig, or Mr. Garrison’s house for Wendy. He was genuinely interested in seeing Cartman or Stan’s- what weakness would Cartman have to admit?

And what kind of trauma did Stan have?

Kyle wasn’t convinced that every location fit a certain person. The train tracks was an outlier, and so was the mill and that stupid building in the middle of the cornfield. The meth lab was a viable option for Kenny, with his history of drug abuse, but Kenny didn’t have any emotional reaction to it, and plus- he was off drugs now. He even offered to  _ report  _ it. So, that wasn’t Kenny’s location. It just couldn’t be.

Once Kyle was done typing, he re-read what he wrote, stopping to fix the occasional grammar mistake or repeated word, and turned his phone off. 

There was something he wasn’t considering.

What was  _ his _ location? Where would Randonautica lead him that would reveal some trauma or emotional soft-spot?

He couldn’t think of anything off the top of his head, which was for the best. Kyle knew that if there was anything seriously tugging at him, he would stress himself out thinking about how the others would react to it. Was it possible that he wouldn’t have a location?

The mystery was too much- he wanted to know who was behind it all, and he wanted to know  _ now.  _ Where did Kenny put the camera? It was still at Craig’s, wasn’t it? It had to be dry by now, so much time had passed.

“Ken,” he spoke, staring at Craig and Kenny. “Did you take the camera to your dorm? Or is it still at Craig’s?”

He smiled. “I almost forgot about that. Yeah, I left it at Craig’s. It’s still in the rice.”

“When we’re done with this, I don’t care who wants to go home, I’m staying and looking at the footage.” He glanced to the front of the car, knowing Wendy would drop him and Craig off. Maybe all of them would stay at Craig’s again, though it wasn’t likely- plenty of time had passed, and Craig’s parents would probably be back from Hawaii or wherever the hell they went. “You guys seriously forgot about it?”

“...Yeah? I mean, it’s not like we’ll actually find out. But we might catch something else, if anyone went in the area beforehand.”

Kyle looked away with a huff, knowing Kenny was probably right. Either the camera was unrelated (impossible) or the person behind it all would never be dumb enough to show their face on the camera that they planted. Why would they leave it there, too, if it were meant to record the four of them? Wouldn’t they want to go back and watch the recording?

Maybe the camera was part of a plan, but the people from the app changed their mind, or didn’t see any use in it anymore.

Kyle looked back out of the window. Rays streamed through black silhouettes of tree branches, making Kyle squint and turn away. He was hungry, and suddenly wished he had brought some crackers to nibble on. He decided, once they were done with this location, he would ask if anybody wanted to eat out and split the bill. If not, he would eat with Stan when he got back home. They would probably settle on takeout. Panda Express was Stan’s favorite, and it had been a while since they had Chinese.

He looked back at Craig, and felt bored again. Nobody was talking, and everyone either had their earbuds in or were on their phones. Kyle busied himself with his notes again, and once he was finished, tilted his head back on the seat, wondering: why did the app choose him and Stan to terrorize?

-

Leaves crunched underneath Kyle’s feet as he walked around. Wendy stopped in another neighborhood, though this one was in a much smaller, rural town, far north of Denver.

When they entered the town at first, Kyle was actually excited to see what it had to offer. Now that they were in what looked like a diet ghetto, however, that excitement was fading. The location brought them to their second crackhouse. It was a two-story white paneled house, with decaying leaves almost plastered onto the front porch from what Kyle could guess was years and years of rainwater, and had a twisted, rusting metal fence surrounding it. The neighborhood itself was secluded and quiet, shielded by the woods and another set of train tracks.

Looking around, Kyle wondered if the entire neighborhood was abandoned. He hadn’t seen anybody on the sidewalks, or on their front porches, or even kids playing in the front yard. Maybe everyone was inside, avoiding the visitors, or maybe the neighborhood belonged to a gang and they were about to get jumped. 

Kyle pushed past the squeaking gate, reassuring himself that it was safe. None of them had any weapons for self-defense, but they could surrender Cartman, if anything went wrong, and drive away unharmed.

“I don't like this. Let’s leave,” Stan spoke, putting a hand on Kyle’s arm. “We’re not getting killed.”

“What did you think we drove two hours for? To walk around a nice house? Come on.”

Wendy stood next to them. “I don’t want to leave either, but I think we should have some kind of protection.” She turned around, watching Craig get out of her car last. She pulled the fob out of her purse as he closed the door. “Cartman? Did you bring your hunting knife?”

“No?”

“Does anybody have anything, then?”

Kenny shrugged. Nobody brought anything with them, so Kyle bent down and picked up a longer stick, hitting it on the fence to see if it would break easily. It was solid. “This will work.”

“You’re gonna ward off homeless people with a stick?” Cartman asked, his nose scrunched up.

“Better than nothing,” he said, stepping up onto the porch. “If there is someone in that house, I’m not protecting you.”

“What-ever,” Cartman huffed back. He followed Kyle, standing next to him on the soggy bed of leaves. Craig walked away and picked up a metal rake that was left leaning against a tree.

Kyle tried the front door first, and was glad to find that it was open. Wendy and Kenny climbed up after them, then Craig, following the rest of the gang single-file through the front door. Defeated, Stan looked around and walked in too, finding Kyle in the entrance room and sticking behind him.

The floors were littered with crumbled stone, dust, and Funyun wrappers. Kyle stared down at the concrete, poking around the wrappers and revealing half-filled syringes. “Be careful. Everyone has gym shoes on, right?”

“Yep,” Wendy assured him.

“Good.” He continued walking, using the light streaming in through the cracked, pointy windows as a guide. There was no furniture in the house. The closest thing that came to furniture was a porch swing that they had already passed up, and a fireplace that was built into the sitting room.

Craig turned his flash on, deciding to explore the parts of the house that Kyle had overlooked. He used his rake to poke at things, much like Kyle was doing. “This is a nice house. All it needs is a flipper.”

“Yeah,” Kenny agreed. He took random pictures, alternating between the places Kyle and Craig were searching. Really, he cared more about the neighborhood they were in over the house- it looked nice. Almost pretty, even if the houses were near dilapidated. But the vegetation was bright, almost overtaking the front yards and their fences, and the colorful fall leaves made it look even better.

Maybe it was because of his childhood, but he always loved neighborhoods that looked like shitholes. He was able to find the beauty in sad, abandoned places- not in an emo way. Kenny just enjoyed the ruggedness of abandoned houses, left to be overthrown by bindweeds or Virginia creepers.

He made a mental note to take more pictures when he returned outside.

Wendy, on the other hand, was semi-disgusted by the house. The smell of rotting leaves wafting in from the front porch was one thing, but the dust particles hanging in the air was making her nose run. She sneezed a few times, but got used to it by the fourth, and spent most of her time watching Kyle and Craig with her arms crossed. Cartman had similar feelings to her, finding the abandoned house boring and unsterile, but he liked to tease and taunt her by picking things up with his bare hands and dangling them in front of her face.

“Cartman!” Kyle snapped, upon realizing what he was doing. “Stop being annoying. Go look upstairs.”

“Kahl’s putting me in time-out, guys,” he joked. Nobody laughed. Frowning, Cartman climbed the stairs, mentally telling himself that it was okay- he wanted to be away from everyone anyway. Even if it wasn’t true.

Cartman pulled his phone from his back pocket and turned his flash on. Though he could make his way around perfectly fine, he was having trouble seeing some of the not so well-lit areas.

He searched all of the rooms down one hallway, starting to get bored, before reaching the last one. Upon entering, he was hit with the smell of dried blood and flaking wall paint. Cartman aimed his flash down at the ground. There was a pool of blood in one corner, and handprints crossing diagonally across the floor, almost as if someone had dipped their hands in the pool of blood and crawled across the room.

He crouched down, noticing two hand marks in the corner, darker than the others. Something in his gut lurched as he thought of possible scenarios in his head. They looked like  _ child’s  _ hands, really, and while Cartman fucking hated kids and couldn’t give less of a shit about them, it was still disturbing to think that someone was huddled in a corner, covered in blood, for any reason.

Were they trying to escape? Or had they hurt themselves? There were no footprints, or knee prints, for that matter, so nothing below the torso could’ve been covered in blood.

“What the hell, Cartman? Why are you  _ that close  _ to it?” Kyle snapped from behind him. He turned around, watching as Stan, Craig, Wendy, and Kenny gathered behind him. Kyle bit his lip, piecing together the marks of blood on the rug. “We’re calling the police. Get your ass up, don’t touch anything. They might be able to find DNA.” 

Cartman made no move to get up. “It’s not that big of a deal, Kahl. What if it was period blood?”

“Period blood doesn’t- ugh!”

Reluctantly, Cartman pushed past the five of them in the doorway, unable to admit how upset and unsettled he felt. Seeing those marks on the carpet was disturbing, but he was more focused on the way Kyle criticised him for everything he did. He was upstairs, minding his own damn business and looking at the blood marks, not bothering anybody. And Kyle comes upstairs to see him- and suddenly he’s a problem?

He glanced back into the room, noticing a disturbance with the rug on the right side. “Look. Someone ripped it up.” Cartman almost didn’t want to point it out to them, and instead ridicule them for not noticing before he did, but he didn’t have the type of energy for that.

“They tried to rip it off of the floor and roll it up to hide the blood stains. Or maybe they planned on rolling the body up in it,” Craig explained. “Guess they couldn’t get all of it up.”

“Or they realized that this house is abandoned and nobody would investigate it.” Wendy took Cartman’s previous place in the room, staring at the handprints, though not as closely as Cartman had been. “This is really sad.” She stood back up. “I’m less weirded out with what went down here, and more concerned with the fact that someone was able to lead us to all of these locations. So whoever brought us here- they killed Garrison, and they… did this. Whatever this is.”

Kenny stepped forward. “No. Maybe they just  _ know  _ about it. If they committed all the crimes, why would they lead us to their very own meth lab? And the crime scenes? They don’t know that we wouldn’t like, report the meth lab. If they...” Kenny trailed off.

Nobody could argue against that logic. Everyone stood and watched while Kenny took pictures of the room, specifically the carpet, though he didn’t fail to capture what little blood splattered on the wallpaper either.

“If there’s really nothing else-” Wendy started.

“The backyard?” Craig said, walking back into the hallway. “There might not be anything, but I think we should still check.”

Kenny wanted to stay behind and take pictures of the other rooms on the top floor, so Cartman volunteered to stay back with him as the other four entered the backyard. There was nothing more than a shed and a few plastic garbage cans lining the parking lot. Kyle wanted to search the shed, but was concerned with germs, so when Kenny finished up and met with them in the backyard, he rummaged through the various tools and ended up pocketing two cans of old spray paint.

That was it.

“Okay, guys,” Wendy spoke, stepping away from the shed. “That’s it?”

“Yep.”

She turned to look at Kenny. “Is anyone else hungry? I think we should stop somewhere, and if nobody’s busy, we could stay the night in my apartment. We should stop by Craig’s first though, and get that camera.”

“I’m down,” Craig said. Everyone agreed, which was strange, because they all had classes the next day. Kyle dropped his stick on the front porch, and Craig abandoned his rake somewhere in the backyard. All six of them got into the car.

Reporting the blood in the upstairs bedroom was the last thing on their minds.


	14. Wendy's Apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii, this one is a little short but i'm trying to get back into writing so bear with me

The evening had been a blur to him; they ate, talked, watched a movie, but all Stan really remembered was creating a makeshift bed on the floor and laying down with Kyle.

Cringing, Stan opened his eyes and wearily stood up from where he had been sleeping. He stepped into the bathroom, cracking the door shut, but leaving the light off. He didn’t want to wake anybody up. There was something thick and sour at the back of his throat. Stan knew it had to be mucus, and bent over the sink to spit it out, but stopped himself. Someone was talking. Normally, he wasn’t one for drama, but he recognized Cartman’s voice. Who would Cartman be talking to so late at night? Kyle was asleep on the floor next to him, and he didn’t think Craig would have the energy to deal with Cartman.

“...for tomorrow. Do you want me to?”

“No. I think I need to be alone,” Wendy spoke.

Wendy? Why were her and Cartman talking? Didn’t they hate each other? Stan could just  _ feel  _ Cartman rolling his eyes at her. “Come on.”

“I have two papers to write, and I need to catch up on my business project with Clyde. He didn’t work on his half yesterday at all. It’s due Thursday, and if I push it back Mr. Fennegan will hate me,” she spoke. “And you need to stop stress eating!  _ Especially  _ sugar.”

A plastic wrapper crinkled from the kitchen. Cartman did eat a lot, but Stan never made the connection that Cartman stress ate like he did. Stan assumed he savored the taste or liked being fat or something. Why did Wendy know that?

It hit him out of nowhere. Wendy told Cartman that she had sex with Mr. Garrison because they were much closer than they let on, maybe even dating or sleeping together.

God, no. Stan couldn’t picture them sleeping together.

Just close friends. That was all.

Paranoia got the best of him, though, and as the two continued to argue, he wondered if maybe Cartman was sending them to all of the locations, and that was why him and Wendy acted like they hated each other- because they were both in on it, and if they acted buddy-buddy, it would look weird. And it made sense that they were only having small talk, too. Neither of them were dumb enough to talk about setting the locations up while any of the four of them could be awake to hear it. Desperately, Stan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember who invited Wendy to go with them. He knew Kyle invited Kenny, but that was it.

“ _ No,  _ Wen-dee, carbs are good for you. Remember? It’s sugar that he told me to stay off of.”

“What you’re eating right now has sugar in it.”

“Well,” Cartman protested, “not that much! Sugar is in everything. You can’t just avoid it.”

Wendy sighed. “I’m going to bed, don’t follow me. If you want to keep looking tomorrow with the four of them, fine, but I can’t. I’ll drive them home in the morning.”

“Fine.”

Wendy closed her bedroom door, and Cartman walked across the apartment. Stan couldn’t understand why, but he passed Stan up in the bathroom and left through the front door. He could hear the footsteps growing fainter as Cartman descended the wooden stairs, and plateaued into silence.

_ Keep looking _ . Stan still thought Cartman had something to do with it, but the fact that Wendy said those two words… something was off.

Unable to shake the feeling, Stan spat out the mucus and finished up in the bathroom, returning to Kyle on Wendy’s living room floor. Kenny and Craig called dibs on the couch, and there they laid, Kenny on top of Craig, Craig’s arms wrapped around him. They didn’t try to hide the fact that they were dating or interested in each other, which Stan thought was… cute, in a way. He was happy for them.

He turned back around, his eyes now on Kyle. He had much more pressing matters to think about. Without hesitation, he shook Kyle awake, knowing he would have to talk to someone sooner or later.

Kyle reached up to rub his eyes, shaking his head. “What, Stan?” he whispered, without even opening his eyes to check if Stan was there.

“Wendy and Cartman were talking.” Stan looked down the hallway, in the direction of Wendy’s bedroom. “We have to be quiet.”

“Talking about what?” he asked, his hands now down at his sides. “Is it really that important?”

“Yeah. Look.”

Kyle looked around, squinting, clearly disoriented. “What?”

“Cartman isn’t here.”

“So?” Kyle muttered.

“He just left. I think he’s behind the locations. He has to be. Him, maybe Wendy.”

Shaking his head, Kyle sat up straight and made eye contact with Stan. “Let’s go on the porch.”

The two of them sat against the brick wall, their knees to their chest, watching a group of guys drunkenly stagger around in the parking lot. Stan’s face was already reddened and numb from the 30 degree weather, but Kyle wanted to talk outside, so that’s what they did. “...Kyle, I really think they’re behind it.”

“I know! You keep saying that, but you won’t even tell me what happened. What did they say?”

“Fine. I woke up, uh… Wendy and Cartman were in the kitchen, Cartman wanted to stay at her apartment tomorrow for some reason. He asked if she wanted him to. And she said no, because she had essays to work on and some dude named Clyde was supposed to work on… a project?” Stan explained, reaching up to rub the crust from his eyes. “So Cartman was like-... I don’t remember what he said after that, but um. Cartman was eating, and Wendy got mad at him, because she said it was bad for his health, because it’s sugar…”

Kyle listened, eyes narrowed and blinking, still dazed from his sleep being interrupted. “That doesn’t mean they’re working together on the app. They’re hiding the fact that they’re friends.”

“I know! But why would they hide it? Wendy said that she couldn’t come with us tomorrow if we wanted to go looking, which I think means she isn’t… I dunno… maybe it’s just Cartman then. I feel like it’s him,” Stan spoke, eyes wide. “Really, Kyle. Something is telling me that it’s him.”

Kyle seemed to understand exactly what he was talking about… but wouldn’t agree with him. “We need solid evidence that it’s him. I know everyone thinks he’s doing this, but it’s just a  _ feeling  _ that we have. We can’t go on that alone.”

“What do we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do, Stan. We could try to catch him in a lie, but that would require some effort,” Kyle spoke, looking away. “And it’s not weird that the two of them would hide their… relationship. They’re notorious for hating each other. If they suddenly got along, people would know that they’re dating.”

Stan stood up. “So you think they are together?”

“They’ve got to be. Wendy wouldn’t care about Cartman’s cortisol levels if they weren’t. The only other option is Wendy being behind the app, but she fucked Mr. Garrison. She wouldn’t reveal that on her own.”

“...Oh.” Stan almost forgot about that, which pretty much proved Wendy wasn’t setting up the locations. “Okay. So not Wendy. If they’re dating, do you think Wendy thinks it’s him, too?”

Kyle shrugged. “Let’s get back inside.”


	15. Location Eight - Rose Hill Cemetery

Kyle and Stan made a silent agreement that night. They wouldn’t talk to Kenny or Craig about what Stan heard, and they wouldn’t confront Cartman or Wendy about it, either. Kyle insisted that they had to catch Cartman doing something else suspicious.

Both of them stuck to their word.

That morning, Stan and Kyle were the first to wake up. Kyle paid for the Uber and sent Wendy a short message telling her that Stan felt sick and that they wouldn’t be able to look at any locations today. A bad lie, but it would work.

“I think we should go by ourselves,” Stan spoke, turning to face him in the backseat. “If it’s Cartman, he wouldn’t expect it.”

Stan was right. Cartman was probably back at the student complex right now, sleeping or watching TV. He wasn’t at Wendy’s apartment when the two of them woke up, and since he left the night before, it only made sense for him to go home. “You don’t think it would be dangerous?”

“Get your pocket knife when we get home. I need to brush my teeth. I’m getting a car soon, so we won’t have to deal with them anymore.”

“Really?” Kyle asked, blinking. “You have enough?”

“My dad sent me some money on my birthday, so yeah.”

Kyle nodded. “That’s cool.” He’d never met Randy before, but from all of the stories Stan told him, he sounded- off, to put it nicely. Though his own father wasn’t in great mental health either…

What if Mr. Garrison’s killer was Stan’s dad _?  _ Or much worse, his own dad?

He pushed those thoughts away. No. There was no reason for his or Stan’s dad to bring them to these weird locations- they wouldn’t know Stan downloaded the app, anyway- and his dad was growing old. The last thing he would want to do while preparing for his years of retirement was drive around Denver and plant these weird pools of blood and bones.

“We forgot to report the house we went to yesterday,” Stan pointed out.

That was true. “I’ll call, um, tomorrow after my classes.” He thought back to the blood stains on the carpet. Why only that bedroom? Worse case scenario, a child had been traumatized or murdered in that bedroom. Best case scenario… the blood belonged to a crackhead on her period? Did crackheads even get periods? Kyle knew cocaine could make you less fertile and mess with your cycles, he had a minor in psychology.

The Uber driver dropped them off at the complex. Cartman wasn’t there.

-

Another graveyard.

Kyle chewed on his bottom lip, wet leaves sticking to his sneakers as he walked around. “The only thing to do is look at the last names,” he said, hesitant to enter. It was just like any old graveyard, but Kyle was still put off by the fact that they were brought to another one. A dead friend or relative was buried here, for sure, and it related to one of them.

“I kind of don’t want to.”

“Why?” Kyle asked, as if he weren’t feeling the same exact way. Without Kenny, Craig, Wendy, and Cartman around him, he was vulnerable. Unshielded. Even with his pocket knife clipped to the front of his jeans, safely covered up by the front of his button-up flannel, he didn’t want to see the last names.

Stan shrugged. The cemetery itself wasn’t too big, it only spanned five to six acres, and they were the only people in sight. “We should stay together. I don’t have a knife.”

“Yeah.”

They stood there as the Uber driver drove away. Kyle took the first step, through the path and past the gate, feeling the wind curl around his neck and torso as he walked. 

_ Just a cemetery. Anything that could get you is buried under six feet. _

He squatted down at the very first row of plots, scanning the headstones for surnames that stuck out to him.

-

It took them twenty minutes to find a name that they could recognize, and wasn’t commonly shared, like Smith, Tucker, or Johnson.

“Kyle!” he shouted, yanking him by the arm and dragging him to the opposite side of the row. Stan and Kyle agreed to stay nearby, but to maximize the amount of names they could read, they stuck on opposite sides of the row they were reading from. The longer they spent in the graveyard, the more comfortable they grew. “It’s Cartman!”

First, Kyle thought Stan was referring to Cartman in a literal sense- as in,  _ Cartman is here, watching us.  _ But Stan led him to a grave instead.  _ Cartman.  _ He was the last person Kyle thought they would get dirt on through this whole thing, yet here it was. He joined Stan in front of the plot, staring at the chipped headstone. There was no memorabilia or flowers on top of it, though that was the case with most of the graves- the wind had swept them all into the woods.

_ Liane Carissa Cartman _

_ FEB 14, 1973 - DEC 10, 2017 _

“She died in 2017? Is she like, Cartman’s aunt or something? She’s too old to be a sister,” Stan speculated.

Kyle did some quick math in his head. “She would be 47 today if she were still alive, and she was 44 when she died. Could be his mom.”

Both of them stepped away from the grave. Stan decided to take a picture, thinking he might need it later. Kyle was more unsettled with the fact that there was  _ no way  _ Cartman would lead them to his own family member’s grave.

Unless he would?

It didn’t make sense for Cartman to intentionally lead them here, and Kyle knew it couldn’t be his father, even if it had to be someone who knew all six of them personally. Gerald planting the locations was too far-fetched. They knew enough about Craig to lead them to his ex-boyfriend’s grave, and they had inside knowledge on Wendy’s student-teacher relationship. They knew about  _ Cartman,  _ someone who was a huge fucking question mark in Kyle’s mind.

“We have what we were looking for. Let’s go.”

They called another Uber.  _ What do they have on me?  _ Kyle thought again, as they waited in front of the gate.

He dug his hands into his pockets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the plot thickens


	16. Dairy Queen

**_floydthe-barber tried calling you._ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

**_floydthe-barber sent you a message!_ **

With a frown, Kyle concealed his phone behind his laptop. His phone was on silent, but that didn’t mean he could resist the temptation of checking during class- what if something important came up, like Stan having an emergency?

After going to the cemetery, he and Stan parted ways, Kyle to his Constitutional Law class and Stan to a local diner to try to ‘finish his nursing paper’- a term that meant stuffing himself with french fries and diet Coke while he sat on his laptop in a worn out booth. Cartman was still missing, but Kyle didn’t really care. He would either be back one day, or Cartman wouldn’t be his problem anymore. He did want to ask about the headstone, but he had to get the right timing, or Cartman would freak and deny everything.

Kyle opened the messages from Kenny.

**_Missed Call - 11:04 AM_ **

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ Kyle _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ Kyle omfg _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ Fuck u _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ I called the police on the first crackhouse cuz I thought that that they would just get busted and arrested whoever lived there BC there was no blood stains and other crimes in the first house _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ But noooo _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ Cuz guess what! _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ My fucking brother kevin was living there with his gf and buddies the whole time those were his meth spoons in the dining room table _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ Are u serious _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ I’m freaked out  _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ Also where did u go Ik u got classes but u werent there when I woke up I had to deal with Wendy all by myself. Bad morning _

Kyle slammed his laptop shut, shoving it in his bag and leaving the classroom without another word. He was ahead in that stupid class anyway, and he needed to talk to Kenny about this- not only ask questions about his brother and the house, but tell him what him and Stan found that morning. Only with Stan’s permission, though. He wasn’t sure if telling Kenny was the best move right now.

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Where are you right now? _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ I need to talk to you ASAP. Leaving class. We can meet wherever. Dairy Queen? _

He opened his conversation with Stan.

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ New information from Kenny. If you don’t want to meet us anywhere I’ll fill you in later. If you’re busy I need to know if I can tell him about the plot we found earlier. _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Or should I wait to tell him? I think he can keep a secret but idk. Want to be safe. Cartman can’t know. _

_ - _

Kenny agreed on Dairy Queen, and Kyle let him bring Craig, because he knew it would only cause tensions in the group if Craig was outcast in the conversation. There was already a rift between him, Cartman, and Wendy. More drama would only be stressful, and he didn’t see any reason to leave Craig out of the loop. Maybe Craig would have some information.

Stan was last to arrive, sitting at the edge of their booth and dropping his backpack on the tile near his feet. “What happened?” he asked, leaning forward.

“My brother was running a meth lab with some of his buddies in the first house, I called the police when I woke up this morning because we forgot to and I didnt know he was there.” Kenny looked around at the restaurant, his forearms on the table. “I wanna know how they knew where my brother lived.”

The way Kenny was talking was seriously freaking Kyle out. He was always so laid back, carefree, resilient about everything- Kenny didn’t overreact much. This whole thing suddenly became more personal to him, though...

“They have dirt on all of us. Even Cartman,” Kyle said. “When we woke up, we went back home to brush our teeth and change. Cartman wasn’t there. We went to another location and it brought us to a graveyard- we thought he was behind it, and he wouldn’t be prepared for us to request a location, but it gave us one anyway. Sorry we didn’t invite you. But we looked at all of the headstones, and we found someone Cartman’s family that died a few years back. A woman. I think it could be an aunt or his mom, probably died from something like cancer, but I- Stan and I were suspecting that it was Cartman. This makes me think it’s not him.” He brushed over the fact that Cartman was missing and unseen by anybody in the group.

Craig nodded along as Kyle spoke. “I thought it was him too, maybe he didn’t do _that_ _one thing_ , but I figured he set the first two up for us. The camera sketched me out.” A woman stopped in front of their table with a tray, and with a smile, she leaned over and sat a cookie dough blizzard in the center of their table. He opened one of the plastic spoons and started to eat it, watching Kenny tear the plastic from the other one.

“You guys got ice cream?”

“Yeah. You guys were taking forever.” Kenny crumpled the plastic up and stuck his spoon into the cup.

_ Wow, that’s so cute, they’re sharing,  _ Kyle thought sarcastically. “You guys have any psychotic family members? Stan mentioned his dad earlier this morning, but I doubt it being his or mine. A sister? Brother?”

“My little sister is still in high school. She’s weird, but she doesn’t even have a car, she couldn’t stalk us,” Craig explained.

“Mine too.” Kenny took a few more spoonfuls of ice cream, speaking with his mouth full. “And Kevin is in prison now, I think he would want to lay as low as possible while running his meth lab. Murdering a college professor doesn’t sound like laying low.”

Virtually nobody was inside the Dairy Queen despite it being close to lunch and rush hour, and Kenny had lowered his voice when he spoke, but something made hair prick up on the back of Kyle’s neck. “Okay. My little brother wouldn’t. Stan, you said your sister was in Connecticut for college?”

“...I don’t even know how she got into Yale. But yeah. My dad might be doing this stuff, but I don’t think he would do the big thing, and my mom would know something was up. He’s not the best at hiding things. I had a f... I… don’t know.”

Craig sat up. “Had a what.”

“Friend. In high school. But it couldn’t be him.”

Kyle raised his eyebrows. Stan could be onto something, and they had to consider everyone they knew. “No, keep talking. Why would you bring him up if you don’t think it could be him?”

“He’s just the type, to, uh, know where the crackhouses are and kill people…”

“So? Where’s he at now? Why were you friends with him?”

“...”

“Really _ ,  _ Stan? You were friends with a guy that would kill people?” The blizzard was almost empty at that point. Kenny scraped the remaining cream from the bottom of the cup as he spoke. “Is he around here?”

Stan picked his backpack back up, slinging it over his arm. “Everyone hated me in high school. He was my only option. I’m gonna go finish my paper, okay?”

“ _ Where is he right now?”  _ Kyle urged.

“He’s- he might be in jail, for all I know! Okay? He was  _ born  _ here, but he spent most of his time in and out of jail, so I don’t know. He hated it here, he always said he wanted to move away.” Nobody spoke, everyone’s eyes glued to Stan, waiting for a name. Stan didn’t quite understand that they were expecting one, so he kept talking. “He did like, stupid- petty crimes. Like drugs and assault..”

So Stan didn’t know exactly where he was, but there was a huge possibility that it was the guy he was talking about, especially considering his background. Maybe he had connections to Kenny’s brother.

“I’m leaving. I’ll see you guys.” Stan stood up, speed-walking to the Dairy Queen exit, leaving Kyle, Craig, and Kenny at the table.

Craig wiped his mouth off with his sleeve. “It could be his friend. But I don’t think it is.”

“Who else would it be?” he asked. If they had  _ two  _ leads…

He stood up, the blizzard cup in hand. “Not anybody we know. They had to have access to Stan’s phone or the app.” Craig stopped at the trash can, letting the cardboard cup and the two spoons fall to the bottom. Kenny got up, following him out of the door.

Kyle looked around. Nobody was watching him- the only people in sight were the Dairy Queen workers and a family of three, a single mother with her two kids. He opened his notes app, writing  _ Craig thinks we don’t know them, Stan thinks it’s friend, everyone suspicious of Cartman, Cartman missing, Cartman family member died ~3 yr. Stan has grave. Wendy knows something. Kenny brother/Kevin in jail. _

Kyle pocketed his phone and left. He could always process the information later in bed.


	17. Obituary

After making the difficult decision of skipping the rest of his classes, he returned home, hopefully for the rest of the day. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he unlocked the front door, only to find Cartman comfortably resting his feet on the coffee table. He was watching some type of reality TV show, eyes glued to the screen, completely ignoring Kyle.

Kyle’s lips parted, trying to process everything. He figured Cartman had run away, or worse, been killed, though the prospect of Cartman going missing or getting killed was only scary because of the whole Randonautica thing.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, tuning out the chatter of the TV. “Cartman.”

“ _ What?”  _ he snapped, setting down a can of Diet Coke that he’d been sipping absentmindedly for the last few minutes. “I already did the dishes, you don’t need to get on my ass abo-”

“Where were you?” Kyle asked, coming to regret asking as soon as the words left his mouth. God, now he looked  _ concerned,  _ though he could always play it off as being worried because of the app.

Cartman sat up straight, crossing his legs. “Class. Now shut up, I want to see if the trashy cougar bitch is going to get evicted.”

Kyle dug behind the TV stand and unplugged the cord, not wanting to fight Cartman over the remote. “Really? Classes? You weren’t there when we woke up, and-”

“God, Kahl! Not everybody is under your supervision at all times, so what if I left Wendy’s apartment early, I’m a grown ass fucking man. What are you gonna do? Install some stupid tracking app on my phone?”

Actually, that was a good idea. If Kyle made everyone download something like Life 360, he could see if Wendy or Cartman were going to the locations prematurely, and if any of them went missing, they’d have a rough idea of each other’s location. “I thought someone had hurt you,” he admitted. In any other situation, Kyle would  _ never  _ say something like that, but he was trying to weasel information out about Cartman’s deceased family members, so he had to play nice. Kyle sat down on the couch next to him, lightening his tone. “How were your classes?”

Shaking his head, Cartman muttered “sucked balls” under his breath. “I’m dropping my business classes. I don’t need an economy or stupid business degree to run one. Trump majored in economics, and look, he’s fuckin’ president, he didn’t need to learn law or political science, he just had a natural talent for it. I-”

“So major in something else,” Kyle spoke quickly, wanting to avoid Cartman’s whole spiel about politics and such. His initial reaction would be pointing out that Donald Trump was absolute  _ shit  _ at being president, but he didn’t care about Cartman’s classes, he cared about coming closer to the answer he wanted. “How do you plan on paying for tuition?” If Cartman’s parents were still alive and financially supporting him, this would give him some insight on who was and wasn’t dead in his family.

“I’m not giving you money, Kahl. You’re just gonna have to take the bus or Uber just like every other poor person in Denver.”

“Are you paying for tuition yourself? Like, did you take out loans?”

Cartman narrowed his eyes. “Yes? So?”

“Oh. So none of your family members are paying for it. Where did you get money for a car?” he pressed.

“Well, I worked for it, I’m not involved in drugs like Kee-ney is. Why do you want to know? I’m sure you could start an OnlyFans if you’re in a pinch.”

His face grew red. “I’m not starting an OnlyFans, Cartman! I was just wondering how you got enough money for a car.”

“Not everybody can be as hard-working and as efficient as I am. Sorry.”

“So you worked for everything you have now?” he asked. Cartman didn’t seem to understand that he was asking for details about how he grew up and what brought him to college. He was starting to lose hope.

Cartman nodded. “I have a new plan, Kahl, to get my name out there. But I’m not telling you, because you’ll sabotage it like you always fucking do. Maybe next time.”

Of course he had a new plan. Cartman  _ always  _ had a new plan.

Frustrated, Kyle looked back at the TV, standing up. “Can you plug it back in? I want to see if Risha is going to get evicted. But she  _ did  _ show her tits, maybe the guys will keep her...” Cartman said, whispering the last part under his breath. 

Kyle had an idea. He left the building without a second thought.

-

“What the  _ fuck  _ are you talking about?” Wendy snapped, her jaw clenched. “You can’t just come to my house and start saying shit like that!”

“Wendy?” the man shouted from her kitchen. “Are you okay?” He stepped onto the front porch, where Kyle and Wendy were talking. Kyle had brought up that she and Cartman were dating, or at least closer than they let on, and Wendy wasn’t ready to accept that she had a trash taste in men just yet.

Wendy put her forehead in her hand. “Yes, Clyde. Just go home. I need to do something.”

“What? I thought we were supposed to be working on-”

“You aren’t even doing anything. You’re blasting shitty rap music on your speaker and staring over my shoulder when I write things down on the posterboard. Either do some of it yourself or _go_ _home_. Now.”

“...Fine,” Clyde muttered, his voice low and nasal. Kyle watched him step back inside and turn his speaker off, gathering his notebooks and things into his backpack.

She sat down on a metal chair near the railing, brushing her long, black hair out of her face with her fingers. “Okay. Let’s get one thing straight, Cartman and I are not together. I don’t know why you would think that, but he…” she trailed off, looking out at the thick trees swaying in the wind. “We’re not.”

“He’s what?”

“He has too many issues, even if I were hypothetically- attracted to him, which I don’t think anybody ever has been- I’m not putting up with all of that,” she explained, eyes locked on Kyle now.

To Kyle, it sounded like Wendy  _ didn’t  _ like him after all, but she wasn’t known as a saint or angel, either- she had no trouble lying to get her way. She kept the Garrison thing secret. Why not Cartman, too?

_ Play nice,  _ he reminded himself. “Fine. Then you two are closer than you let on.”

“And? Kenny has Craig, you have Stan, we were the odd ones out. He’s funny. In a pathetic way.”

“So you know stuff about him?”

Wendy sat up straighter. “I don’t get what you’re asking. Or why you even care. Don’t you hate Cartman?” She glanced back out at the woods behind her apartment building.

“Does he have a family?” Kyle asked, settling in the chair opposite of Wendy. He heard the front door close from her apartment. 

“Well, yeah. He does.”

He chewed the inside of his lip. “Have you ever met them? Do you know anything about… his family?”

“No. He doesn’t talk about it. But I know he has aunts and uncles, when people mention that he’s fat he just says all of his relatives are overweight and that it’s genetic.” A pause. “I’m not saying anything else until you tell me why you’re asking.”

So he  _ did  _ have a family, and there happened to be one woman who died in it, a woman who was close to him as the app suggested. The app wouldn’t bring them to just  _ any old  _ grave, every location it generated was meaningful.

Or was he going too into this whole thing? What if “Liane Cartman” wasn’t even related to him, or was a distant family member, and the app just wanted to trick them? What if there was something else in the graveyard they were supposed to see, that they overlooked? “Well, I’m not telling you why I’m asking until you tell me more about it. Does he have siblings?”

“No. He doesn’t have siblings. He never met his father, either, I don’t think Cartman even knows who his father is.”

Dead end on the father’s side- which was actually good. It meant that all of Cartman’s relatives were on his mom’s side of the family, and that if he wanted to track down a-

What was he thinking, interrogating Wendy? He could just look up the obituary! Kyle pulled his phone from his jeans and typed in “Liane Cartman obituary.” He clicked on the first thing to pop up.

**_Liane Carissa Cartman, 44, of Denver, died in her own home on Sunday Dec. 10. Survivors include her son, Eric Cartman of Denver County; two brothers, Howard Cartman and Robert “Fat Bob” Cartman, and a sister, Lisa Cartman, all three of Denver County, Colorado. A memorial service will be held at a later date of convenience to the family._ **

So it  _ was  _ his mom. Kyle turned his phone off, ignoring Wendy’s questions, counting the fingers on his hands. Cartman would’ve been… fifteen, maybe? Sixteen? He wasn’t sure how old Cartman was today, maybe eighteen or nineteen?

“Thanks, Wendy. I have to go home, I have classwork,” he mumbled, stepping back into her house and ignoring her protests.

As he sped down the stairs, he tried to think of a way to identify the cause of death. If he couldn’t get Cartman to open up, he could find a way to contact Liane Cartman’s sister or brothers. Preferably not “Fat Bob,” though Kyle would take answers from any of them at this point.


	18. Location Nine - Divine's Woods

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Stan, you down for another location? _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Plus, I want to talk to you. I found out who the grave belongs to. _

-

“You don’t even know where you’re going? You’re jus’ reading an address off?”

Stan and Kyle met each other’s eyes. “Yeah,” Kyle spoke, hoping the man would shut up and leave them alone.

The man glanced out of the windshield before taking his car out of park and looking back at Kyle. “You guys meeting anyone?”

_ Oh no,  _ Kyle thought, thinking of the knife on his jeans.  _ A weirdo. Okay. I can deal with him.  _ “Well, it’s really none of your business. Keep your eyes on the road,” Kyle snapped.

“I’m jus’ saying, you should be careful.” He looked back at the road, shaking his head. “My brother was murdered, you know that? Month ago. You meetin’ anybody for-” he lowered his voice. “Drugs?”

Kyle’s mouth gaped, though he closed it quickly. The man had a southern drawl just like Garrison did, and they looked around the same age, too, there was no doubt the man could be his brother. What a coincidence. “No drugs. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m assuming they haven’t caught who did it?”

“No sir,” the man mumbled, the rough, calloused skin on his hand stretching as he gripped the steering wheel. He was too fat for his hands to be veiny. “Though I got an- er- friend in the department. She’s sayin’ they caught a little mistress, found her DNA, but she was jus’ fuckin’ him, not a suspect. Went to the college. They gonna talk ter her when they got more stuff on her. Wasn’t s’posed to tell anybody, but what harm does it do? The more people know, the better, maybe she got a boyfriend who wanted revenge or sum.”

He glanced over at Stan, who was silent, his eyes wide and panicked. Was he trying to tell him something? Kyle silenced his phone, pointing to it, before looking back at the driver. If there was something Stan wanted to tell him without the driver hearing, he could text him. “Oh. You’re not afraid of, uh, his name being tarnished?”

“Psh, his name was already tarnished, was a closeted fuckin’ homosexual try’na fuck the gay away. I told him he’d be happier with a man, one his age. Didn’t listen. He never knew what was good for him.” Kyle leaned back in the seat, letting his shoulders rest from the long, stressful day. Winter approaching meant the sun set earlier than usual, and today was no exception. He watched the sun go down, thinking about Garrison. Oddly enough, he came to… trust?... Mr. Garrison’s brother. He seemed nice, rough around the edges maybe, but he wasn’t lying about who he was, and he was giving them  _ information,  _ information that they could use to help Wendy whenever the police decided to question her. 

His phone lit up.

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ just texted wendy hope she doesnt blow up and start calling me _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ dude is freaking me out idk how he has this information from the police _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Well? Do you think he’s potentially dangerous? _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ no.. he’s old and fat it’s 2v1 you’re pretty viscious _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ visious _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ however u spell it _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ weird how we met though _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ could be him but i dont think so _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Are you okay? _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ lol no _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ im scared _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Of him? _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ no i just feel bad _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ sorry _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ When we’re done with this location we can watch a movie in my bedroom. I’ll make you tea or something. _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ can i eat banana bread in your room if i dont get crumbs everywhere _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Yeah _

Kyle turned his phone off and leaned forward. “I went to that college too. Yeah, I can see what you’re saying- everyone thought Mr. Garrison was kind of old and sour.”

The driver let out a deep, hearty laugh. “Herb was always like that, even when he was a kid. Never played with none of the other kids. Was too scared of lettin’ em take his toys an’ shit.” He slowed down, pulling on a road closer to their location.

“Yeah. Hey… actually, I’m a law major, and I’m really interested in this case, especially since it’s so, uh.. close to home? So if you hear anything else about it, could you maybe… tell me?”

“Sure, kid. I got Facebook, don’ use it a lot since most my friends and family are dead. Just try to talk to the ladies. You wanna message me?”

Kyle never imagined himself getting Mr. Garrison’s brother’s Facebook, but this could  _ really  _ help them down the road. “Sure. What’s your name?” he asked.

“Travis Garrison.”

Kyle added him, sending him a short message. “Okay. I really do hope they find whoever killed him.”

“Me too.” Travis stopped the car at a dead end. “This good enough?”

Smiling and nodding, Kyle unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. He paid him, exchanging goodbyes, ending with Kyle and Stan standing at the edge of the road, watching him drive away.

“Okay. He kinda did give me the creeps,” Stan admitted.

Kyle turned around. “He’s just old. Old people are creepy. But I think he actually wanted to help, I really doubt it could be him.” They began walking. The given location was somewhere in the woods, but thankfully not too deep into them. “So- can you tell me the name of the guy you were talking about earlier? I think we should look into him.

“I- I already checked. He’s in prison,” Stan said quickly.

“...Oh.” That was unfortunate, but eliminating possibilities did make them closer to finding out who it really was. “Well, what’s his name anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he looked away. “I’m gonna call Wendy. She is freaking out.”

Kyle frowned. “Stan, why are you hiding it? Just tell me the name, maybe we can call the prison and see how long he’s in there for, or if he got-”

“Hey, Wendy,” Stan spoke, holding his phone to his ear. Kyle thought he was joking at first, but when he heard Wendy’s muffled, rapid voice on the other line, he knew this conversation was over. For now.

He continued walking.

-

When both of them approached a tent, Stan and Kyle knew it had to be what the app was talking about. Stan took pictures of it from the outside, noting how  _ new  _ it looked. Stan pointed out that it was too small to be the one they bought at Wal-Mart a few months ago. Plus, none of them had gone camping out here.

Though the woods did look suspiciously similar to the one they walked through to get to the mill.

“Stan, do you think the mill is just past here? Are these the same ones?” he asked, his phone chiming in his back pocket. That was weird- he could’ve swore he turned the ringer  _ off,  _ but it was possible he turned it back on after getting out of the car. He was surprised he even got service this deep into the woods.

Kyle pulled it out of his pocket, skimming his other notifications and focusing on the most recent one,  **_ieatpussy_509 sent you a message!_ ** God, he really had to get around to changing his Snapchat contact names.

**_ieatpussy_509:_ ** _ What are you fags doing lol _

“It could be the same woods, but I don’t think it means anything. Maybe there are two things that the guy just… wanted to show us, and they happened to be close by?” Stan replied. “I don’t think anyone is in it. But what if there’s like, an animal? Like a…”

He changed Cartman’s contact name.

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Why? _

**_Cartman:_ ** _ I see your names on Snap Maps. Fuck you guys _

**_Cartman:_ ** _ Are you dumb or what _

**_Cartman:_ ** _ Don’t trust me, Kenny, Wendy, Craig, etc…? _

**_kyleb085:_ ** _ Well, I have information. I can tell you when I get home if you’re not too much of an ass about it. _

**_Cartman:_ ** _ Whatever _

**_Cartman:_ ** _ Don’t need it _

**_Cartman:_ ** _ Might drop out of college for next year. You guys might not be seeing me anymore.  _

He didn’t care to ask why Cartman wanted to drop out and deal with his dramatic shit- he knew it had something to do with his major, he mentioned that earlier, but there  _ was  _ information that he was willing to part with to get Cartman to trust him while he was still here. Whatever happened to be inside this tent, and also the fact that they had just met Garrison’s brother, making him a potential (yet unlikely) suspect. He wasn’t ready to tell Cartman about the grave- he still wanted to call Cartman’s other family members, find out how Liane Cartman died- and he didn’t think Stan was ready to talk about his high school friend, either. He could tell Cartman about Kevin living in the meth house, too. Information for trust. It would probably work if Cartman didn’t know about the other things they suspected.

“Kyle?”

“Oops, sorry,” he said, putting his phone away. Kyle had completely ignored him for the last few minutes. “What?”

“You open it.”

He didn’t think anybody would be inside the tent, but it made sense for him to unzip the flaps- he had the knife, after all. Kyle slipped the knife off of his waist, flicking the blade open and pulling down on the zipper without hesitation. Nobody was inside, but the tent  _ did  _ give off a fairly musty, rotting smell when he opened it.

“Yuck.” There was a backpack inside and a small air mattress. An unlit gas lamp and flashlight sat next to the pillow, along with a knife and pack of cigarettes. “You know, the guy who owned this stuff is probably dead now. I don’t know why he would leave this shit out for someone else to have.” Reluctantly, Kyle bunched his sleeves over his hands to avoid touching anything else with his skin. He crouched inside.

Stan stayed at the entrance, watching him. “Get the bag. We could look through it, or- is there a pair of jeans? Look for a wallet in the back pocket, we could get ID-”

No jeans. In fact, there were no clothes at all in the tent, only a few crusty pairs of socks and a dried-up, used condom lumped in the corner, with a thick, reddish blanket. He dragged the backpack across the tent floor, letting it sit on the grass outside. “Do you want to touch it?”

“Not really,” Stan answered, but knowing Kyle was a germophone, he bent down and unzipped it anyway. There was one thing that caught his eye- a black, bulky laptop, sealed in a Ziplock baggie. He put that to the side, pulling other things out, none of them of interest. Most of it was canned food.

Kyle started taking pictures since he couldn’t bring himself to physically touch anything. “Okay, take the laptop, leave everything else. I think you should slide it under your hoodie and hold it in place with your jeans so we don’t look weird on the drive back home.”

“When I get a car, we won’t have to worry about this shit anymore,” he muttered, and after searching the front pockets of the backpack, zipped it back up and tossed it into the tent. “You pay for the Uber this time. Please?”

“Sure.” As Stan concealed the laptop under his shirt, Kyle pulled the zipper back up, just in case.

Good thing, too. After they started walking, back up the hill they came down, a ragged, demented-looking man came into view. He was sitting in the grass, his dirty, ripped jeans covering the knees he held against his chest. When Stan and Kyle saw him, his head shot up. There was something in his beard. Probably beans, like they’d saw in his backpack.

He didn’t speak.

“Uh, hi?” Kyle questioned, tempted to crouch down to meet his eye level. He decided against it.

The man frowned at them. “You two bin in my tent?”

“Well, we haven’t seen a tent.”

“Liar,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “Lyin’. It’s right there in the open. Near the pond. ‘Ought to move it. If you hadn’t seen mine, you seen someone else’s. Divine’s?”

The two of them only stared, hesitant to move. Neither of them had seen any other tents. The man met Kyle’s gaze, frowning. “Divine invite you?”

“Who-”

“Get out.”

“Why? It’s not your woods.”

“Divine's. Git out.”

Shaking his head, Kyle continued walking, moving his arm around Stan’s waist and holding him close in case the man tried anything. He was glad to be away from the man, too. He reeked of rotten eggs and body odor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello
> 
> updates might slow down because my mom got sick and my sleep schedule is messed up (but dont worry shes fine)
> 
> also someone commented on the last chapter and i was going to reply to it but you deleted it! so whoever u are i'm sorry and just know that i saw it


	19. Prodding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for mentions of pedophilia and rape but it doesn't go too in-depth

“So, you never told me who was buried there.”

“You didn’t seem like you wanted to talk. So I didn’t.”

Stan pulled his knees up to his chest, his napkin-wrapped banana bread in his right hand. “Who was it?”

“I’ll tell you who the grave belonged to if you tell me who your friend from high school was. Fair trade.” Kyle hated having to pry information out of Stan like that, but he didn’t have any other option, and it could be relevant.

On the drive back home, Kyle and Stan didn’t get the chance to talk about who the man in the woods was, scared that the Uber driver would inject on their conversation or urge them to call the police. When they got home, Cartman was in the living room (again), chomping down on a TV dinner and still watching that stupid TV show. Kyle didn’t understand why he was so obsessed with it, but Cartman didn’t give them too much grief after coming home. He was still within hearing range while the two of them stood in the kitchen, making tea, so they couldn’t talk about the grave in there, either.

“I just  _ really  _ don’t want to talk about him, okay? It’s not like it matters, because he should still be in prison.”

“ _ Should.  _ But he could’ve escaped, or told somebody else to harass us and set these locations up. We need to talk about it, Stan. Sooner or later,” Kyle reasoned. If everybody would just…  _ stop  _ hiding shit, especially Wendy, Cartman, and Stan… they could have this stupid thing solved already. “Does the guy have anything against you? Any reason to start this stuff?”

Stan started eating, turning away from Kyle. “No. If he escaped from prison- don’t- don’t you think there would be news about it? An article?”

Something in Kyle’s gut said Stan was lying. “Okay. You might be right. But could you give me a name?”

“No. I can’t.”

“It seems like you want to protect him.”

“I don’t!” Stan shouted. “His name is Trent Boyett. Okay? Fucking look him up,” he snapped, throwing the blanket off of him and leaving Kyle’s room, not bothering to bring his banana bread or cup of tea with him.

Kyle got up, knowing the best move would be to follow him.

Inside Stan’s bedroom, he had thrown his hoodie at the corner of the room and covered himself back up on his bed, the Ziplock-sealed baggie laying on his dresser along with his phone and keys. Kyle sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing what he figured was Stan’s back, though it was hard to tell from the thick comforter he was bundled up in.

“Fuck off, Kyle.”

“No.”

“...”

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I pushed you. I didn’t know you were so sensitive about- him, or whatever, I just figured you didn’t think it was about him.” Kyle paused, waiting for Stan to accept his apology and sit back up so the two of them could go back in Kyle’s room and continue the movie they’d been watching.

Nothing.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m  _ fine,”  _ he said, shifting around underneath the blanket. “Just look him up since you care so much.”

Kyle slid his arm under the blanket, rubbing Stan’s neck now that he could actually feel it. “Out of respect for you, I’m not going to. You can tell me about it whenever you feel like you should, okay?” Of course, he could always look Trent Boyett up  _ later  _ without Stan knowing, but he didn’t want to do that unless Stan absolutely refused to give him an answer.

“No. Do it.”

“Are you sure you want me to?” Kyle couldn’t begin to imagine why Stan was so upset over it. Maybe Stan committed a crime, and he framed Trent for it? It didn’t seem like something Stan would  _ do,  _ but if that was really the case, it made sense why he was seemingly… upset for no reason. Stan was the type of person to let guilt eat him up.

He thought back to when he, Kenny, Craig, and Stan had all met up at Dairy Queen. Stan left early. Was he overreacting? “Okay,” he said, making sure Stan knew what he was doing. Kyle pulled his phone from his pocket.

**COLORADO Prison (DOC) Arrest Records for Inmate TRENT S. BOYETT**

To the right, the website showed a picture of an angry looking man with blond, frizzy hair. Kyle couldn’t see Trent and Stan hanging out in high school- Stan was just too… passive.

**NAME: BOYETT, TRENT SCOTT**

**PID / DOC #: 496490**

**Supervision Begin Date: 11/02/2018**

**Supervision End Date: 11/02/2023**

**DOB: 6/10/2000**

**Age: 20**

He skimmed over all of the important stuff- hair color, weight- it all checked out. Kyle scrolled to the bottom to see the criminal charges.

**Risk Assessment Rating: Medium**

**Conviction Information**

> _ Offense 1: SEXUAL ABUSE, 1ST DEGREE _ _ \- Conviction County: ADAMS - Sentence length: 5 years 0 months 0 days - Date of crime: 3/05/17 _
> 
> _ Offense 2: RAPE, 3RD DEGREE - Conviction County: ADAMS - Sentence length: 5 years 0 months 0 days - Date of crime: 3/05/17 _
> 
> _ Offense 3: SEXUAL ABUSE, 1ST DEGREE - Conviction County: DENVER - Sentence length: 5 years 0 months 0 days - Date of crime: 4/14/17 _
> 
> _ Offense 4: SODOMY, 1ST DEGREE - Conviction County: DENVER - Sentence length: 5 years 0 months 0 days - Date of crime: 7/28/18 _
> 
> _ Offense 5: SEXUAL ABUSE, 1ST DEGREE - Conviction County: DENVER - Sentence length: 5 years 0 motnhs 0 days - Date of crime: 7/28/18 _
> 
> _ Offense 6: RAPE, 1ST DEGREE - Conviction County: DENVER - Sentence length: 5 years 0 months 0 days - Date of crime: 7/28/18 _
> 
> _ Offense 7: SEXUAL ABUSE, 3RD DEGREE - Conviction County: DENVER - Sentence length: 5 years 0 months 0 days - Date of crime: 10/03/18 _
> 
> _ Offense 8: RAPE, 1ST DEGREE - Conviction County: DENVER - Sentence length: 5 years 0 months 0 days - Date of crime: 10/03/18 _
> 
> _ Offense 9: TAMPERING WITH WITNESS - Conviction County: DENVER - Sentence length: 5 years 0 months 0 days - Date of crime: 10/12/18 _

Kyle glanced back at the lump under the blanket, half-terrified, half-upset. What had happened? Was Stan still friends with this guy after knowing all of the stuff he did…? Did Stan help him get away with some of these things? Some of the charges were years apart.

Or worse, did Trent do those things to him? 

If not, why did he get away with the first few crimes, committed in 2017? Why did Trent Boyett have  _ so many  _ charges, all of them being five years exactly?

“Are you okay?” Kyle asked again. He wanted to make sense of it. From what he could gather, Trent raped three or four different people, two in the spring of 2017, one in July of 2018, and the last in September. He looked back down at his phone, reading the charges- Trent sodomized the third one. Sodomy in the first degree could mean a lot of things according to Colorado law, but combining sodomy with the two crimes under it, all on the same date- sexual abuse and rape in the first degree- implies that Trent drugged his victim and raped them, either underage, unable to consent, or blood-related. Those were the two most likely.

So Trent was a pedophile.

Stan hadn’t answered his question.

“Did he rape you?” he asked again, cringing after he spoke- he felt stupid for having to ask, but he wanted to know for sure.

Stan sat up, ripping the blanket from over his head. “Yes, Kyle, he fucking raped me. You couldn’t have figured that out yourself? Why else would I be crying?” he sniffled, his face red and wet with humiliation. 

He felt a twinge in his gut. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed- was it really worth making Stan upset? Trent Boyett  _ was  _ still imprisoned, there was no way he could’ve done anything directly, and now both of them just felt like shit. “I’m sorry, Stan. I had to know, okay? I thought you had maybe helped him cover it up, or maybe you knew about it and you didn’t-”

“Whatever,” he said, wiping his eyes. “It’s fine. I should be over it by now anyway.”

“Dude, don’t say that.” Kyle set his phone down, leaning forward to hug him. “And I’m- really sorry.” Stan hugged back, silent, his head resting on Kyle’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be over it, it’s- it was something really traumatizing that you went through, I know you don’t want to think about it anymore so I’m sorry for trying to make you tell me. You don’t have to get over it. Nobody should have to.”

Nodding, Stan wiped the tears from his raw face again. “Okay, I- I’m… I know this is me being really dramatic but can I talk about it for a second?”

“Of course.” He didn’t expect Stan to open up about it, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Stan took a few minutes to chew him out- he definitely deserved it- but that wasn’t the case.

Stan pulled away, clearing his scratchy throat. “So… he raped- first it was this, um, he met this girl and he was dating her and everything. I didn’t really like her, but I remember one night he spent the night at her house, and her parents didn’t know, and I guess that was the first charge because I remember sitting in court for it. He raped her four-year old sister. They broke up after that but I- I don’t know… maybe they… couldn’t get enough evidence to put him in jail or something, I don’t think he ever went to court... um,” Stan mumbled, his voice still closed up. “The second one, I sat in court for that one, too, it was a girl from our school… she was the same age as him, though… third one, another little… kid? Uh… I stopped. I didn’t really pay attention to the sodomy charge, I don’t know what that was... and then on Labor day, he invited me to his house and tried to get me drunk, I didn’t- for some reason I didn’t, I think I knew something was off, but I usually got drunk, like, every day-”

He could tell Stan was on the verge of breaking down into a fresh set of tears, so he hugged him again- he didn’t need to hear the rest. “I’m sorry,” Kyle whispered, at a loss of where to go from there.

“It’s not your fault. He has… friends, outside of um, jail. It could be them getting me back be-” he explained, his voice caught in his throat. “Be-cause I was the one to put him in jail, my dad told me it was the best thing to do, but I k-kind of regret it because now they- it… this is too complicated for them.”

“Huh?” Kyle asked, rubbing his back. “We don’t have to talk about it now. Do you want to, um, rest, or do something to distract yourself? We could go somewhere.”

Stan sniffled again. “No, no, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” He wiped his nose. “They’re just street thugs or whatever. I don’t think they know how to tap a phone or use a… keylogger.. or even get into the stupid app… so maybe not them.”

To Kyle, there was only one answer to this whole thing- it  _ had  _ to be Trent Boyett’s friends. Had to be. Maybe the ‘street thugs’ didn’t know anything about tapping a phone, but there was a good chance they knew someone who did. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he repeated. “If you ever feel- uh- unsafe, ever, just call me, okay? Or if you need to talk about something. Or cry. I’ll be here for you. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“I know that you care,” he whispered, pulling away and laying down.

“Good.”

“Let’s change the subject.”

“Okay.” Kyle laid down next to him, putting his arm around him and sliding his hand under Stan’s shirt, feeling the smoothness of the skin on his back. “What do you think about Cartman being- um- pissy about his college major?”

Stan smiled, wiping his face again. “I know what his plan is.”

“What is it?” he smiled back, glad that Stan wasn’t too torn up over… everything being brought into the open.

“He’s gonna start some stupid business- think, like, Shark Tank products- and he’s gonna audition for one of those reality TV shows. He’s been watching them a lot recently, mostly Big Brother, since he wouldn’t last a day on Survivor without food. He wants to win so he can use the prize money and put it into his business. He’ll get exposure. A lot of them become, like, ‘influencers’ on social media. It’s stupid.”

Kyle couldn’t imagine Cartman winning one of those shows- everyone would hate him too much to keep him around. Sure, he was manipulative, but people would see through it. Cartman wouldn’t win any competitions, either. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

“Do you ever feel bad for Cartman? ‘Cause, like, I kinda do.”

“...Not really. Why?” he asked, moving closer to Stan. Cuddling with him was the best- he basically radiated heat, and Kyle’s hands were  _ always  _ cold.

Stan yawned. “Just, ‘cause, like… it’s his mom, right? In the grave?”

“Yeah?”

“Well… maybe he was happy before that. And when she died, maybe he just… spiraled or whatever. And became an asshole that nobody likes.”

That was possible. Kyle turned away, now laying on his back. 

He had a feeling Wendy knew the most about him.


	20. Fat Bob's House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is turning way darker than i planned but ahem anyway enjoy

Admittedly, Kyle had a lot of things to catch up with.

When he woke up, he slid Stan’s arm off of his chest, taking a moment to stare down at him.  _ He’s been through a lot,  _ he told himself, chewing his fingernail. Stan wasn’t awake yet, he knew that, but he still felt a flutter in his stomach when Stan turned around, pulling his blanket up to his neck.

Kyle showered, changed, brushed his teeth, and cleansed his face, all while trying to ignore Wendy’s calls and texts. She was freaked out that the police knew about her involvement with Garrison, and felt like she had to take it out on Stan and Kyle, for some reason. Though, if he were in her position, he would probably feel the same.

Then again, he wouldn’t fuck his sixty/seventy year old teacher for a grade.

Kyle would deal with her later. For now, he had other things to take care of- he had to talk to Trent Boyett at some point. With Stan’s permission, of course, but he still had to do it. It could clear up some of his confusion.

He also had to find Howard or Linda Cartman. Fat Bob would work, too, but he didn’t sound too pleasant, and Kyle had mentally reserved him as a last resort type of contact. If he wanted to, he could take the time to call the police about the blood stains they had found in the abandoned house, but he didn’t want to spend what was supposed to be his “weekend” just talking to the police about the app. He had other things to do and more important things to worry about than the stupid bloodstains, and at this rate, he’d rather start writing his essays or studying for his classes than deal with the police. 

Before leaving, he grabbed the laptop on Stan’s dresser, thinking maybe he could try to crack the password while he was out. He slid it in his backpack, standing in front of Stan’s bed. “Bye, Stan. I’m gonna go talk to one of Cartman’s relatives, find out what happened to his mom.”

“...’Kay,” he mumbled, only half-awake. Stan didn’t open his eyes.

“Sleep well.” He turned the light off.

-

He only found Howard Cartman and Robert Cartman on Facebook. He sent both of them a short message-  _ Hi, my name is Kyle, I’m friends with your nephew Eric Cartman, and I’m concerned for him, can you text me back so we can meet up?  _ Something generic that he could leave open to interpretation in case he needed to switch up his story. He prayed that it wouldn’t backfire and result in one of them texting Cartman to ‘check on him,’ but there wasn’t a way to prevent that without looking suspicious.

Kyle got a message back from Robert Cartman. Howard didn’t look like he was too active on Facebook, anyway, though he wasn’t sure why he couldn’t find Lisa Cartman on Facebook. Did she not have an account, or was Cartman her maiden name and the obituary website was too lazy to update her new one?

He called an Uber, getting Robert’s address. He decided he would stop somewhere after talking to Robert, maybe have breakfast or something-  _ anything  _ to put off talking to Wendy, especially since his abrupt visit while trying to interrogate her about Cartman.

As the Uber rolled to a stop, he paid the man and got out, remembering that he had to tell Craig and Kenny about the laptop and the homeless man at some point.  _ Ugh.  _ There was too much to keep up with, and really, if it was just him and Stan, the whole thing would be much easier- there would be less back and forth and keeping secrets now that Kyle knew about Trent Boyett. He was still taking time to process that something like that had actually happened to Stan, though. The reality of the situation hadn’t hit him yet, and he didn’t want to think about it.

Robert “Fat Bob” Cartman’s house was actually pretty nice. Suburban. Maybe a little run down, but it was far better than anything Kyle could afford at the moment. He walked to the front door, his sneakers pressing down on the soft, dewey grass around the stepping path. Upon knocking, at least fifteen dogs started barking at the top of their lungs, shitting themselves with excitement.

Great. Kyle hated pets, and now he had to deal with a bunch of dogs, running around and yelping and rubbing their gross, furry bodies all over his legs. By the time he was expected to leave, he’d probably be  _ drowning  _ in greasy dog hair. At least Bob Cartman responded to his message within the first hour of sending it.

The man opened his front door, smiling down at Kyle as three dogs spilled through the crack in the door, surrounding him and yapping at him. One nearly knocked him over. “Welcome in! Make yourself at home- aw, don’t mind Frank. He gets a little excited, he’s bigger than he thinks.”

Kyle stepped past the dogs, fake-smiling back at the man.  _ Frank? Holy shit, who names their dog Frank?  _ He looked around, pleasantly surprised to see just how clean the living room was. Kyle stood near the coffee table, waiting for ‘Fat Bob’ to gather all of his dogs and bring them back in before the two of them had any serious discussion.

“Oh, help yourself. I got- lemonade in the fridge, and my wife made iced tea last night. You might as well pour yourself some, after puttin’ up with little Eric! He was the devil, growin’ up,” Bob spoke, laughing at his own joke. “Now why don’t you sit down? Make yourself at home.”

He wasn’t far from the truth. Kyle sat down on a faux-leather couch, thankful it wasn’t covered in dog hair. “Thank you, sir, but I’m good. Um… I was just a little worried about Cartman, that’s all. He was like the devil? When he was younger?” Kyle asked, already off to a great start. 

“Of course he was. Nobody wanted to put up with him, especially during Thanksgiving and Christmas and such… only his mother could even calm ‘em down, and even then, she’d put him in time out, only for him to come back out and start suckin’ up to her. Ungrateful, too, I remember one Christmas, the little bastard hinted that he wanted a hunting knife. For obvious reasons, you know, I said no- I got him something else, and he threw a fit about it. Never wanted to see me again.”

Yep. Definitely seemed like something mini-Cartman would do. Kyle nodded in understanding. “Yeah, that must’ve been frustrating, not being appreciated…” he trailed off. He didn’t have to say much else- Fat Bob had no issues filling up the space.

“Really was. When Liane died, I couldn’t take ‘em. No sir. I never had any kids, but Lisa and Stinky already had two kids, they figured there was no harm in another. Well, an emotional teenager… they already had the parenting skills. I can’t even put up with these damn dogs sometimes! How was I supposed to put up with Eric?” They turned quiet so suddenly, Kyle almost forgot the dogs were there. He looked around, all of them lying in either some kind of padded bed or on the surrounding couches, their heads resting on their paws. Some of then were staring at him, waiting for him to make a move, but most of them had their eyes closed. “They just had their breakfast. Tired fellas, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. You know, I’ve always wanted a dog, but I can’t,” he lied, smiling again. “College. Anyway… I didn’t really know that, uh, his mom died? I thought his parents were still alive. But I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh… he never knew his dad, his mother raised him though. She always joked that his father was a Broncos player!” he laughed again, slapping his knee as he did so, causing some of the nearby dogs to raise their heads and stare at him. It took him a while to come down from his laughing fit, but once he did, he got right back into it. “Y’know, I’m surprised Eric hadn’t told you about it. You two are close, aren’t ya?”

Kyle smiled again, gritting his teeth behind his lips. “I guess I’m the closest thing he has to a friend, yeah. He’s just been spiraling. Not taking care of himself, and sitting in front of the TV for a long time.” He swallowed his spit, looking down the hallway to his right, hoping Fat Bob didn’t care too much about his body language. He needed to leave as soon as possible- Bob, even though he had that old man baby boomer charm, was really annoying. “If you don’t mind me asking… what happened to his mom? It sounds like it had a- you know, an impact on him.”

“Well, if he didn’t tell you, I don’t think I should say.”

He wanted to ball his fists up and beat the shit out of Stinky Bob or whatever the hell his name was, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Still, though, it frustrated him that he came  _ all the way  _ to this dude’s house, and he wasn’t even going to tell him what he wanted to know. “...Cartman isn’t a very open person, y’know? He doesn’t tell me a lot. And I’m all he has.”

“I guess it will help, if you know what’s bothering him, or at least what happened to him. Let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?”

“This didn’t come from me.”

Kyle pursed his lips together. Would this actually work? “Got it.”

“...It was real sad. Eric was about… fifteen or sixteen, maybe fourteen. You ever hear anything about Liane?”

“No? Was she a bad mother?”

Fat Bob leaned back into the couch, stroking the top of a German Shepherd’s head. The deep, obese lines around his mouth suggested he was coming to regret his decision to talk about her. “She wasn’t a bad mother, per say, just, she… her job. It wasn’t something you’d want your kids to be exposed to. But she did the best she could.”

Bob rambled on. _Drugs,_ Kyle nodded. Liane Cartman was a drug dealer, and maybe Cartman was, too, it would explain how he was able to afford a car in his first year of college. Unless his aunt and uncle paid for it? Cartman said he paid for it himself, through “work,” but that idea was laughable.

“...they came home, it was a Sunday, so, y’know, they’d gone Christmas shopping at the mall. Liane always loved to get the gifts early, don’t know why, it always made her spend more down the road because she’d- she’d go back to Wal-Mart, or the Krogers, and she’d see all of the wrapping paper and gifts and get excited all over again and start spending more and more, hah, but they came home, just like any normal day. Oh, Liane. They can say what they want about her, but she tried her hardest to be a good mom and raise that God forsaken child, even if he came out of the womb as evil-”

Holy shit. This dude could not stop talking.

Kyle stopped paying attention, opting to make eye contact with the German Shepherd until Fat Bob started actually  _ talking. _

“He wasn’t asleep, Eric never went to bed on time, he always stayed up on his little Xbox or Nintendo or whatever… but Liane would pretend he was asleep. She had to do it sometime, right? So Liane would bring the men to her house, most of them had wives ‘er whatever, and  _ she  _ wasn’t paying for a hotel room if they weren’t…” So Kyle was completely off-base with the drug thing? “I guess she brought home a bad apple. I wasn’t there, but the police said her room- soaked with blood. God, it was horrible. They offered to show me a picture, to help with- er- closure, or whatever ‘ya call it, but I said no. I can’t imagine little Eric huddled in his room listening to her scream.” He slouched over, wiping the corner of his right eye with his thumb. “God. I just can’t. Sorry. I know I gave you too much detail an’ all, but people- they can tell me all the worst horror stories in the world, and really, nothing can top that. They couldn’t even have an open casket, he mauled her face up so bad, I just- god. God. Eric was traumatized after that, he started- you know, he killed Lisa’s cat a few weeks after having to move in with ‘em. She loved that little thing so much. And he just strangled it. Like it was nothing.”

Kyle’s jaw gaped. If he thought any harder about it, he might’ve teared up too, but thankfully Fat Bob stopped talking about it. “Yeah, yeah, sorry if- that’s not what you wanted to hear, but by God. By God. It was terrible,” he went on. “I’m real sorry to tell you about it. But I don’t think that boy can be helped. If something like that happened to me? At that age? I think- you know, that boy, he might be past the point of no return.”

It took him a moment to regain his composure. “I’m- wow. I would be devastated too, if I were you. I’m… sorry that happened to you. And that I had to bring it back up.”

“Naw, naw, I chose to tell you about it. I chose to bring it back up. Would’ve had to talk about it, you know, sometime, sooner or later. Eric might have to, too. Lisa tried to get him in therapy, but Eric would come home every day, sayin’ it wouldn’t work, that his shrink looked like a bimbo and wanted him to meditate and whatnot.” Bob stood up. “Well, you can stay longer if you’d like, or take a thermos of lemonade with you if you wanna leave. I gotta walk the dogs, though, Betty over there is gettin’ antsy. She likes goin’ over to the neighbors to see her boyfriend. Little tabby cat. He’s adorable.”

“...You’re right. I should get to my Civil Procedure class anyway,” Kyle lied again, standing up quickly. “Thank you for talking to me. If anything comes up about Car- uh, Eric, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

“Of course, though I’m not sure there’s much I can do anymore. He’s an adult now, ain’t he? What’s he… eighteen? Twenty?”

“Eighteen.”

“Ah. Yeah. Well, it’s good to know Eric’s got  _ someone  _ looking out for him. Heard college was scary.” He walked Kyle to the door, patting him on the shoulder. “Take care.”

Kyle smiled up at him. “Yeah. You too.”

He called another Uber, waiting at the edge of the driveway, the weight of the laptop pressing against his back as he waited. Now he knew the truth, about Stan  _ and  _ Cartman. Even Wendy and Craig had something dark and sinister they were hiding, even though Craig and Stan were innocent.

Paranoia got the best of him.

What if Craig wasn’t innocent?

He pulled his phone out, texting Stan and asking for permission to visit Trent Boyett in prison. Kyle tried to imagine Tweek Tweak dying of leukemia in the hospital. 

He was probably thinking too far into it.


	21. fath-devine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw BRIEF mention of porn, BRIEF mention of bestiality, cults, incest, child porn, rape, murder

Kyle unzipped the plastic baggie, sitting down in the padded booth and gently laying the computer on the table. He put the baggie back in his backpack, hoping it didn’t matter that he wasn’t using gloves- if there was child porn on it, though, he knew he had to turn it in, even if it meant jail time for stealing the computer. He couldn’t let anything like that slide.

He checked his phone one last time before getting down to business. Stan was still asleep, his message to him unopened and unread, but Wendy had called him a few more times. Kyle decided that he couldn’t put off talking to her.

**_kyleb085: Sorry for ignoring you. I know this must be stressful. We can talk if you want._ **

**_kyleb085: I’m in a diner right now. I’ll send you the address if you want me to catch you up._ **

**_tburgers: FINALLY_ **

**_tburgers: jeez kyle i figured you weren’t talking to me anymore!!_ **

**_tburgers: i’ll be there but just know i’m fucking mad at you_ **

He sent her the address, turning his phone off and opening the laptop. To his surprise, the inside looked clean- almost new- but he knew it wasn’t. Some of the keys were worn down and shiny from hand oils, as well as two spots below the keyboard- where the user would put their palms. Whoever’s computer it was, they used it a  _ lot.  _ Yikes. He hoped he wouldn’t get tracked down anytime soon.

The screen lit up, and the words “fath-devine” appeared on screen, below a default profile picture. Kyle bit his lip. It sounded familiar, and not just from what the homeless guy said in the woods-  _ if you haven’t seen my tent, you saw Divine’s, this is Divine’s woods, not yours.  _ Something like that. He wasn’t sure what the ‘fath’ stood for, but divine was spelled wrong on the computer. Maybe the man he spoke to was Divine and referring to himself in the third person.

No. That didn’t make sense. He implied he and “Divine” had two different tents.

He typed divine into the computer first. Wrong. He tried devine. Also wrong.

His phone lit up at the corner of the table. Typing random words could only get him so far, and really, the computer was starting to look like a lost cause- he couldn’t take it to the  _ police  _ and admit that he stole someone’s computer in hopes of them cracking it. They would return it or question him. But if he kept guessing, the computer could lock itself.

He gave one final guess before closing it. Kyle tried ‘randonautica,’ hoping it would give way.

Nope.

Whatever. He slid it across the table, against the wall near the salt shakers. This whole thing was stupid. If he made a friend in IT on campus sometime soon, maybe he could do something with it, but then he would have to get the IT major in on the entire story and it would just be a huge hassle.

But he  _ was  _ desperate for answers.

He grabbed his phone and messaged the group chat, asking if anybody knew or was friends with an IT major that wasn’t a narc, vaguely aware of someone approaching his table. He looked up. “Hi, Wendy.”

“Hi, Kyle,” she said stiffly, sitting down and setting her purse on the table. “Any particular reason you know that the police are going to question me?” Wendy asked, voice lowered.

“We were in an Uber, the man who picked us up was Garrison’s brother, he told us that the police gave him ‘inside information.’ All of it checked out.”

Resting her elbow on the table, she set her forehead in the palm of her hand. “Great. Well, at least I’m not going to prison.”

“Yeah.”

“...So,” she said, shifting her legs underneath the table, accidentally kicking Kyle. “Why did you come to me asking about Cartman’s family? Did he do something?”

He was tired of having to keep up with his lies. The truth wouldn’t hurt unless Wendy chose to confront Cartman about it, anyway. “The app led us to a graveyard. Liane Cartman was one of the headstones. I figured she was related to Cartman, so I found her obituary online. Good enough age to be his mom. Found his uncle on Facebook. Messaged him, went to his house, he told me that his mom was murdered by one of her clients, and Cartman was fifteen and in the house when it all went down. It fucked him up. I thought you would know, so I went to you before his uncle.” He frowned, leaning closer to her. “You know it all now. Happy? Tell him if you want.”

Wendy was too shocked to speak at first. Kyle’s gaze fell back on the laptop. “Do you know anybody who’s good with computers? I mean,  _ really  _ good with computers, so not Kenny. Somebody that could maybe guess a password. I don’t want it wi-”

“Why do you need to unlock it? Whose is it?”

“Stan and I went to the woods. We found a tent, and it wa-”

“The app led you there? Or did you just  _ go?” _

“...It was the app.”

She stood up, frustrated. “Okay, I don’t understand. I thought all six of us were supposed to be in this  _ together,  _ but if you and Stan start doing stuff behind our backs- how are we even supposed to communicate? You crossed a boundary when you went to Cartman’s uncle to ask him about that stuff. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive you if he finds out.”

“I don’t  _ need  _ him to forgive me. I needed to know why the app led us to her grave.”

Wendy sat back down, rolling her eyes. “I know you think Cartman is just this- stupid, hearless creature with no morals, but he actually has feelings. If you just asked him about it-”

“I tried, Wendy! I tried to ease him into telling me, but he wouldn’t. If all of us would just stop hiding secrets- like you, when we went to-” he lowered his voice. “Garrison’s, or Stan, when he wouldn’t give us the name of the guy in prison, or Car-”

“What?” she asked, lost. Kyle remembered she wasn’t there when Stan suspected Trent Boyett. “You keep saying that we shouldn’t keep secrets, but that’s  _ exactly  _ what you’re fucking doing right now. Going around without any of us and finding all of these things, keeping shit away from Cartman and I, that’s not gonna get you anywhere. All five of you need to come to my house and we’re gonna settle this. Today.” She stood up. “You’re gonna come clean and lay it all out in the open, since you want to preach about  _ honesty  _ and  _ openness.  _ And we’re gonna find out who did it, and you’re gonna cooperate, and tell me what else Mr. Garrison’s stupid fucking brother said about the police.”

Wendy had a point, but that didn’t mean Kyle was ready to admit it. “Well, I figured Cartman was behind some of the locations, and that you were protecting him. That’s the only reason I kept you out of it. Maybe if you didn’t defend Cartman so fiercely, I would’ve told you about this stuff!” he shouted in an attempt to defend himself.

“Fine,” she snapped again, standing up. “If you think it’s Cartman, you can tell him why when we get to my apartment. In fact, I’ll drive you, to make sure you actually show up.” Wendy grabbed her purse, pulling it over her shoulder and walking out of the door.

With a sigh, Kyle slid the laptop back into his backpack, following Wendy out of the diner.

-

“Craig- uh, who’s this?”

Craig sat down on the couch in the living room, next to Kenny. “Kyle said he wanted an IT major in the groupchat. I brought one. Her name is Bebe.”

Wendy, who was sitting on a stained, wooden chair, her elbow pressed against the dining room table, sat up straighter, sizing up the new girl. “Oh,” she smiled. “Bebe, huh? You look familiar… I’m Wendy. If you need anything, just tell me, okay?” Kyle knew that was Wendy’s fake smile, and predicted some catty girl drama coming up in the next few days.

The new girl smiled, shaking her head. “Thanks for offering, but I’m good. What was it that you guys needed?”

“Oh, um…” Kyle mumbled, pulling the laptop out of his backpack. “I just wanted to know if there was any way to crack the password to this laptop. If you can’t, it’s okay.”

Bebe stepped closer to him, her blonde, curly hair bouncing around her shoulders as she took it from him. “Well… I can try typing in some of the default passwords. Do you know the person that this computer belongs to personally? A lot of people use their birthdays-”

Cartman opened the front door, cutting her off. She made eye contact with him, a brief look of disgust crossing her face, though she didn’t focus on him for long, instead making eye contact with Kyle. “No, sorry. I don’t know anything about them,” he answered earnestly.

“...Why do you need to unlock this?” she asked, walking across the living room and settling down next to Wendy at the dining room table. “I can try some numbers and the default passwords, but there isn’t much else I can do. Especially if this is a stolen laptop. Do you want it wiped?”

“Nonono, don’t wipe it,” he spoke quickly. “I just need to see what’s on it.”

Bebe frowned, visibly confused. “Okay. I’ll try to help.” She turned back around.

Everyone, with the exception of Bebe, who was now typing rapidly, had their eyes on him. Kyle sat down next to Stan, crossing his legs.

“Okay, Kyle. Come clean,” Wendy said, sliding a K-Cup in her coffee maker and pulling the lid down, puncturing the foil on top.

_ She wants me to talk about this with Bebe in the room?  _ “About what?”

“About what you did behind Cartman’s back, and about why you and Stan went to the woods without us, and why you think it’s Cartman.”

He decided to start with the easiest one. “Well, Stan and I went to the woods because we thought it was Cartman and wanted to see if he would be on guard.”

“...Okay? And what else?”

“Uh... what do you mean?”

Wendy turned the coffee maker on, ignoring the little  _ hiss  _ sound it made as it poured boiling coffee into the mug. “Why do you think it’s Cartman, and where else did you two go?”

“This is stupid. Cartman is just suspicious, that’s why. He left early that one morning, and nobody knew where he was, so Stan and I decided to go to whatever location the app gave us to see if it would lead us somewhere. It led us to a graveyard.”

Cartman was sitting against the arm of Wendy’s couch, squinting at Kyle. “The app led you to my mom’s grave.”

“Yes.”

“Great, Kahl. So why did you visit my uncle?”

“Why did I visit your-” he mumbled, cutting himself off. So Wendy told him? “Because I wanted to know how she died.”

Cartman glared at him. “That morning, when I left early, you could’ve just  _ asked me where I went,  _ Kahl. And you could’ve just  _ asked me how my mom died.  _ But no. It’s too hard for you, isn’t it? You have to jump to conclusions or take the long way around every possible issue.”

The back of his neck burned. “...I didn’t trust you. How was I supposed to know you weren’t lying?”

Muttering something to himself, Cartman got up from the couch and locked himself in the bathroom. He didn’t seem sad- Kyle had never seen Cartman genuinely upset before, so it didn’t come as a surprise that Cartman was annoyed with him instead.

“Okay. Now that we know Cartman’s mom has nothing to do with any of this, do you want to explain what you and Stan saw in the woods and why you took s-”

“You don’t know that Cartman’s mom has nothing to do with it. Unless you know who it is, Wendy?”

Wendy turned her coffee maker off, picking up the mug. “Well, I doubt it. Do you want to explain to us what she could  _ possibly  _ have to do with any of this?”

“The guy who killed her-”

“-is in jail,” she cut him off, pouring creamer into her mug.

So was Trent Boyett. “Which jail?”

“You don’t have to bring up his fucking  _ past!”  _ she shouted, slamming her coffee creamer down on the counter. “There was no reason for it, just like Tweek Tweak! You think a dead boy with leukemia, Cartman’s dead mother, or a guy who’s in jail right now have anything to do with this? You seriously think so? They’re just bringing us to these graves and shit to freak us out! You didn’t-”

“Yes there was! They led us to a  _ grave,  _ Wendy, is it suddenly unrelated just because Cartman doesn’t want all of us to know what happened? Either we drop this whole thing and pretend Stan’s phone was never tapped and pretend they magically know personal things about all of us, or we fucking keep things in the open. I knew Cartman wouldn’t tell me even if I asked, so I had to do what I could. There was a murder in 2017. Guess who else was murdered? Mr. Garrison. Guess who we ran into? His brother. Guess where the locations led us? Tweek’s grave, Kenny’s brother’s meth hou-”

Wendy put her forehead in her hands. “ _ Fine.” _

“What?”

“I said fine. You tell them everything, talk about it if you want. I’m gonna lay down, I have a headache.” She took a washcloth and held it under the sink, dampening it, before slipping into the hallway. “I’ll be back out.” Wendy rubbed the towel on her face, closing her bedroom door.

Bebe looked away from Kyle, awkwardly digging in her purse. She found a pack of gum and stuck a piece in her mouth before returning to the computer.

“Sorry, uh- Bebe. This might sound really confusing.” Kyle looked over at Kenny, Craig, and Stan. “I’ll fill her in if you guys want to.”

“ _ I _ don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Craig deadpanned.

“Oh.” Of course Craig didn’t know. Kyle wasn’t sure if he should fill Craig in, either. He decided to tell Craig and Kenny about the man in the woods and the computer, and when Cartman came out of the bathroom, he told everyone an extremely simplified version of what happened to his mom. Kyle then filled Bebe in, with Stan and Kenny’s consent.

-

After they had switched topics, Wendy came out of her bedroom, empty coffee mug in hand. She dropped it in the sink. “Have we all made up?”

“...I guess,” Kyle said. He still felt some tension about what happened earlier, but him and Cartman were on  _ speaking terms,  _ and that’s as good as it could get. “Bebe knows everything now.”

“Okay.” Wendy sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. “From now and on, the six of us are going to do things  _ together.  _ If we can’t be together, then we need to agree on something before we do it. Okay? Bebe can come if she wants.”

Bebe had been turned around for most of their conversation, listening and giving her opinions, though sparingly. “Uh, I unlocked it, by the way. A while ago.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell us?” Wendy asked, smiling. “This is- that’s great! Thank you, Bebe.” Kyle smiled to himself, thinking about how  _ incredibly forced  _ Wendy’s tone was. Maybe part of it was genuine excitement, but man, she didn’t talk like that to anyone else.

Bebe stood up. “Well, that’s what I’m here for! I wrote the password down, in case you need to turn it off or something. Hope it helps you guys.”

“Of course it will.”

“...Well, I’m gonna leave now, if you guys want to be left a-”

“No, no, that’s okay!” she said, standing up. “You can stick around. Do you want coffee? I have tea… oh, there’s this kind called Lady Grey, it’s just Earl Grey but better. If you put some sugar in it, it tastes really good-”

Bebe and Wendy continued talking in the kitchen. Kyle turned away from them, eyes on Stan now. “Why is Wendy trying so hard to be nice to her?” he whispered.

“Maybe she’s trying to scare her off.”

Kyle giggled softly, covering his mouth with his hand. Craig rose from his spot on the couch, the smell of shampoo and cologne filling the room as he moved. “I have a class. I can’t help you guys. Bye.”

“Bye, Craig,” he said softly. 

Craig grabbed his backpack and left without another word, prompting Kenny to stand up too. “Um, you guys tell me what you find. I’m gonna get to my apartment.”

“...You have something to do?”

“No. I just, uh. I feel awkward now.”

_ He’s seriously gonna leave me with Cartman and Wendy.  _ “Alright. See you, I guess.”

“Bye.” Kenny left the apartment.

Kyle got up from his place on the floor, taking Bebe’s spot at the dining room table. Part of him excited, and another terrified, he slid his finger around on the touchpad, waking the laptop up. “What do you guys think we’re gonna find?” he asked as a way to get the conversation going. He wasn’t sure why he was so…  _ hesitant  _ to start digging through the files. Even if there was something like spyware or a keylogger on it, something told him that the stuff they found would be worse than getting caught with the damn thing.

Chances were, there would just be… normal person shit on it. Like bank accounts and such.

The screen turned on, and Kyle remembered that this laptop belonged to someone who lived in the  _ woods.  _ Away from the rest of the city. There was no need for bank accounts if you lived in a tent, bathed yourself in rivers, and stole from grocery stores, assuming that’s what this man did. Or woman. Was Divine (Devine?) a woman’s name?

“Child porn,” Cartman said, sitting down next to Kyle. He was surprised Cartman was still cooperating after Kyle went digging into his personal life, but… whatever. He didn’t need to point it out.

Stan stood behind him. “No, Cartman.”

“What? It’s an educated guess. Why do you think these people are living in the woods anyway? Either they want to be self-reliant or they’re hiding from the government.”

Kyle opened the folder icon and started looking around- the Favorites tab, then onto Videos and Photos. To his surprise, he found nothing.

“Click Downloads,” Cartman advised. Kyle did, and the screen brought up seven pictures. He enlarged the first one, squinting at it- nothing crazy. Just two young girls, standing beside an older woman, presumably their mother or older sister. It definitely  _ looked  _ like they were in the woods, just from the setting. Maybe the man took the picture with his camera and saved it onto his computer.

The two girls were wearing dresses, and the one on the right seemed to be mixed-race. The girl on the left was white. Kyle couldn’t decide on the older woman’s ethnicity.

“Sorry, Cartman. No child porn.”

“Shut up Kahl.”

He closed it, opening the next picture. It was the same three girls in the middle, but this time, a few men had joined them, their arms around each other. They were posed like… wedding photos. Kyle knew they weren’t, but it wasn’t like this was a family reunion or anything. There was no point in a reunion if all of them lived together in the first place.

That thought only brought up more questions. Were these people related? If not, why did they decide to pitch a couple tents in the woods together? Were these people behind the camera near the mill? He didn’t know the layout of the woods, he’d only been three or four times, but he wasn’t aware of anyone else living in the woods. If someone  _ else  _ planted the camera, it was unlikely they would slip past the people in the tents.

Maybe they didn’t slip past unnoticed. Maybe he could go back and question them.

Both of the pictures were taken around the same time, and as Kyle returned to the Downloads folder, he realized that  _ all  _ of them were. The light was dim, as if the sun were about to disappear. Like… nighttime, but everything was still visible without the moonlight, given that there was no flash used on the pictures.

“I have an i- a theory,” Stan said.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe these pictures are-” he said, stopping himself. “I don’t know. Nevermind.”

Cartman closed the Downloads folder. “I think the man is running a cult and he forced these women to take these pictures. Maybe it’s like the real Father Divine. Or it’s like, you know- that black family that was full of incest or whatever.”

“What?” Kyle asked, squinting.

Cartman stared down at his phone, typing. “You know- it happened in like, 2015 or something. He thought he was a vampire.”

Kyle suddenly recognized what he was talking about. “You idiot. That was 2004,” he corrected, though he couldn’t quite place a last name to the family.

“Whatever. His name was Marcus Wesson. Maybe that’s what they’re like,” he said, closing the tab on his phone.

Stan leaned closer to Cartman, trying to catch a glimpse of the article Cartman read from, though it was too late. “What happened?”

“This guy had sex with this one girl, then he raped his daughters and said that he was God and a vampire and shit. Then the police found them and he killed all of them, he’s-”

“ _ Cartman, _ ” Wendy snapped from the kitchen. “The people in the woods have nothing to do with that.”

“How do you know? Wen _ -dee?  _ Were you there?”

She huffed. “You’re so stupid.” Wendy turned back to Bebe, who took a sip of the cup she was holding.

“Okay. Here’s  _ my  _ guess. I think that… these people, they look clean and well-dressed, so I think they  _ don’t  _ live in the woods, or maybe they do and they just got cleaned up. I think they live in the woods because they’re too poor to afford anything in Denver, but want to stay here for some reason.” Kyle paused. “Oooor, maybe they’re behind the camera and the app and stuff.”

“Kyle?” Stan asked.

“What?”

“That guy we saw, he isn’t in any of those pictures.”

Kyle opened the folder again, and sure enough, the man was nowhere to be found. “Well, maybe he held the camera.”

“Maybe.”

There was one thing that neither him or Cartman included in their “guesses,” however, something that Kyle was still stuck on- Father Divine. He was a cult leader from the fifties or sixties, and the name on the computer said “fath-devine,” which didn’t sit right with him. Maybe the owner of the computer spelled Divine wrong, but what else was the “fath” supposed to be? Faith?

Maybe Cartman wasn’t so far off when he guessed about the cult. Whoever the computer belonged to, maybe they were delusional and believed that they were Father Divine reborn or something stupid like that, and started a shitty, crumbling cult in the woods. 

“I want to do something,” Wendy said, putting her coffee mug down and taking Kyle’s place as he stood up. “You guys haven’t checked the history yet.” She opened the default browser, which, instead of Google Chrome, was Opera. The owner probably thought Opera was the safest to use. Kyle knew it was rumored to have a “built-in VPN” or whatever, and he wasn’t the best with technical stuff, but even he knew Opera wasn’t 100% safe.

“Ew,” Wendy said, scrolling. Kyle fixed his gaze on the browsing history.

Lots of porn, but nothing illegal, no beastiality or children or corpses. Now Kyle knew the truth- the people in the woods, or maybe just this one guy, was just really paranoid and delusional. Libertarians who didn’t understand that the government wouldn’t care if they watched normal porn. If  _ Japanese omorashi  _ was the worst thing this guy had on his computer, and was too stupid to clear his browsing history or use incognito, Kyle couldn’t imagine anything more sinister going on in the woods behind the scenes.


	22. 4901

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very very long hiatus, this doesn't mean i'm back for sure, idk what will happen but i WILL finish this
> 
> and the thing with the body parts is a true story, if you want to read the article here it is
> 
> https://heavy.com/news/2020/06/watch-tiktok-video-seattle-dead-body-suitcase-randonauting/

Light streamed through the window and landed on the dining room table where Kyle was settled, still scrolling through the laptop’s browsing history, now with a cup of Bigelow that Wendy brewed for him earlier. He wasn’t finding anything shocking _,_ but when he discovered something he considered important, he would take a picture of the website on his phone and get back to work. Bebe and Wendy had drifted away from the kitchen and were now in Wendy’s bedroom. Cartman was across from him at the table, eyes glued to his phone.

That left Stan on the couch, sitting in front of the TV with FOX31 on. He stared at it, but wasn’t pay attention- they were still harping on Garrison’s death, interviewing his family and repeating the same facts that he and Kyle already had memorized.

His phone chirped. Every app (with the exception of Snapchat and YouTube) had notifications turned off, and the only thing that made noise were his text messages, which he received very few of. His only contacts were his parents, Shelly, Kyle, and a guy in one of his zoology classes that he used to study with.

Stan opened the message, assuming it was from his mom sharing some crazy thing Randy did, or Shelly asking if he had a girlfriend yet. Nope. It was a number he didn’t have in his contacts.

**_(720) 552-4901: It won’t help_ **

**_Stan: what wont help??_ **

“Cartman?” Stan asked, looking up from his phone. The text bubble was green, so the messages couldn’t come from an iPhone. “Did you text me?”

“I don’t even like you.”

It could’ve been Bebe and Wendy, messing with him from the other room, but Wendy had to get his number from Kyle, and he hadn’t heard them talk to each other…

**_Stan: whos this_ **

**_(720) 552-4901:_ ** **_(=^･ω･^=)_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: Open the app_ **

A furry.

“Kyle. Okay, seriously, who’s texting me?” Stan snapped, standing up with his phone. Craig wouldn’t do anything like that, and Kenny’s style of texting was _way_ different. It seemed like a girl because of the cat emojis, so… Bebe? It had to be Bebe.

Kyle turned around. “You’ve been watching me this whole time. How am I supposed to know who’s texting you? Just ask them.”

Stan crouched down next to Kyle’s chair, letting him see the screen. “They’re talking about the app. Probably Bebe and Wendy trying to freak me out. Did you give her my-”

“What about us?” Wendy shouted from her bedroom, cracking the door open. “Talking shit?” she joked, getting a giggle out of Bebe, who was settled up near the pillows on her bed.

He entered her room. “Are you guys texting me?”

She frowned. “No?”

“Someone’s texting me about the app. I figured it was Bebe…” He gave them his number, and both of them sent a text, proving that they didn’t do it. Both had different numbers. “Fine. Craig and Kenny, then.”

“Craig wouldn’t do that. Do you want me to- to text Kenny? They’re talking about the app, if your phone was tapped that one time, they could have your number, Stan.” Kyle got up, holding a hand out. “Here, I wanna ask them a question.”

Both Wendy and Bebe got up from the bed, and when Stan handed his phone over, they surrounded Kyle, watching the screen. “I’m gonna save that number to my phone and send something. I’ll see if they answer it,” Wendy announced.

“Okay. Yeah. Good idea.” Kyle sent a few messages, and it looked like he was getting replies.

Stan’s gaze wandered over to Cartman, who hadn’t moved from his spot in the dining room. It didn’t _look_ like he was texting, but… “Cartman. Set your phone down.”

Cartman dramatically dropped his phone on the table. “Oooh, you think it’s me? Because I’m always the bad guy? Fine. Check my messages app. Dicks.”

“I will,” Stan said, picking up Cartman’s phone. Cartman had two apps open- Instagram, and a news app. Stan didn’t know a single person who actually used those apps younger than thirty, but whatever. It looked like he was reading other articles related to the app, minor incidents that didn't involve the suitcase full of body parts. He tapped on Cartman’s messages.

Sure enough, Cartman hadn’t been texting him. His contacts were all in code, with names like ‘Scott Faggotman,’ ‘Cuck,’ ‘Butters,’ and ‘Stupid Bitch.’ Wendy’s contact was ‘Testacleburger,’ which made him smile. 

Another thing that surprised him was just _how many people_ Cartman talked to on a daily basis. He had so many contacts. It was just baffling, and every single one of them had some kind of vulgarity as the contact name.

“You’ve looked long enough, gimme,” he said, snatching his phone away from Stan. “Now you guys fuckin’ know it’s not me. I don’t wanna hear any more shit about it.”

“Fine.” Part of him was disappointed that Cartman wasn’t doing this whole thing. It seemed like such an obvious solution, but the proof was right there: he wasn’t texting Stan’s phone. The operation was much too large to be done by Cartman alone, anyway. Planning the locations, while digging up everyone’s past, _and_ keeping up with the group? And like Kyle pointed out at some point, there was no motive, no reason to expose everyone. Including himself.

Kyle appeared behind him, holding Stan’s phone out. “Here. I got a conversation started on my phone, I’m gonna see where it heads,” he explained. Stan took his phone back in his hands.

**_Stan: Who is this?_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: Ha!!_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: Open the app_ ** **_(=^ ◡ ^=)_ **

**_Stan: Why do you type like that?_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: Because_ **

**_Stan: Where do you want us to go?_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: I already told you!!!_ **

**_Stan: Do you know who I am?_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: Kyle_ ** **_(=^-ω-^=)_ **

**_Stan: How do you know that?_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: You’re just silly!!!!!!!!!!!!_ **

**_Stan: Who’s phone is this?_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: Stan's..._ **

That was creepy and all, but there was one question that Kyle didn’t ask. Stan wanted to see if he would answer. It wasn’t a long shot. Whoever was texting him knew that Kyle had his phone at some point.

**_Stan: who am i with_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: （＾・ω・＾）_ **

**_(720) 552-4901: Move the camera around so I can see!_ **

“Wendy!”

“What?” she murmured, moving closer to him. “Did-”

Stan looked around, first at the corners of the living room. “Your house is fucking- there’s a camera somewhere. Someone got in your house and put a camera there.”

“What?”

He gave her his phone. Him and Kyle hadn’t left the living room since they got there, meaning the camera had to be close to him, or maybe set in a hallway.

“You’re freaking out too much. I think he means the phone camera, if there was a camera set in _my_ house, why wouldn’t it see everyone?”

Stan stopped. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” She gave his phone back, her narrowed eyes lingering on him before turning away.

-

“Hey… what if we-”

“Huh?” Stan mumbled, mouth full. He was, again, stress-eating the leftovers from dinner.

Kyle huffed, pulling his pillow up and repositioning it on his headboard. “Swallow your food before you speak. That’s gross, dude. Your mom never yelled at you for that?”

He finished what he was chewing and set his fork on the plate with a _clink._ “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Do you think, um… we could get customer support? Like, either the app or just… Apple. They could do something.”

“Well, if the people who made the app are behind it, I don’t think talking to them would do anything. If we show Apple the text messages, they could brush it off. I don’t see any se-”

“ _Could._ Doesn’t mean they will. It’s worth a try. What, worst case scenario they can’t do anything? Come on. I’ll email them,” Kyle said, standing up and taking his laptop from his backpack. They were on Kyle’s bed again, watching some stupid Netflix Original that Stan secretly liked. “Can you send me some screenshots?”

Kyle sat back down and started typing as Stan took screenshots. He had both emails put together within ten minutes, and after a quick re-read, sent them off, closing his computer and setting it on the dresser. “Do you feel better? ‘Cause I do.”

“Not really,” he murmured, putting his plate down on the carpet and rolling over on his side.

Kyle slid next to him under the covers. “We’ll figure it out. It might take a while, but I don’t think we’re in any danger.”

“I doubt it, Kyle. I’m sorry, but I do. We don’t even know- it-” he stuttered, putting his arm under his pillow. “It’s gotta be the people controlling the app. And I don’t know how we’re supposed to know who’s behind _that.”_

“It’s a big app, dude. I think all of the locations except for ours are computer-generated. Maybe the girl who found the suitcase with body parts wasn’t random, but so many people use it.” Stan didn’t look too pleased, so Kyle reached out and rested a hand on his arm. “Dude. We can just delete it and never use it again, if you want. Or- well, they’ve gotta have a headquarters, you know?”

“I don’t care anymore,” he murmured. “I should be studying for my future job or some shit. This whole thing, and fucking college, if I drop out, how am I gonna pay for tuition?”

He enveloped Stan into a hug, though neither of them pulled away, so it ended up being a cuddle. “You don’t need a college degree to do music,” Kyle reminded him. “Hey. If we do make this thing public, if we tell the police, or post about it somewhere, maybe you could get famous.”

“Assuming they believe us,” he muttered. “What am I gonna be? A corny fucking YouTuber or something? It’ll last for two months, then everyone will forget about me.”

Kyle closed his eyes. _So pessimistic..._

“I wish I was more like you, dude,” Stan whispered.

_Huh_? “Uh, how?”

“You’re just smart. And you know what you wanna do, and you’re not- annoying, like I am all the time. Plus, like, your- well. Your skin is clear, and you never overeat, you’re perfect,” he rambled. “You balance everything so well, and you’re so good at talking to people..”

“I’m not _perfect,”_ Kyle scolded. “Nobody is perfect. If you keep putting me on a pedestal, you’re gonna hate yourself more.”

Stan ignored him. “I don’t know how you don’t have a boyfriend yet.”

“Because I don’t need one?”

“So you don’t like anybody?”

Kyle inhaled, wondering how the conversation got to this point. “Why? Dude, I don’t even know why we’re talking about this.”

“Guys like you though, right?”

“Nope.”

Stan blinked. “What? Really?”

“No. Nobody has asked me out in my two years of college. Or high school.” It was the truth- his grades always came first, his parents didn’t beat it into his head for no reason. And he wasn’t interested in anyone.

Well, that wasn’t true. Nobody was interested in _him_. 

“That’s really surprising. I figured tons of people would ask you out.. even _I_ got asked out in high school.”

Kyle’s expression turned sour. “Yeah. Not helping, dude.”

“Sorry. Well, if I was gay, I would ask you out.”

He held back a smile. “That doesn’t help either.” Stan clearly thought he was attractive… but why didn’t anyone else? And why was Stan suddenly fixated on him?

Stan hesitated before speaking this time. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Stan swallowed his spit and started messing with his hair, averting his eyes, though he didn’t move Kyle’s hand or try to leave.

“This is awkward,” Kyle said, hoping to urge more out of him. “Why are you so concerned with it anyway?”

“It’s nothing, dude,” he said suddenly. Stan sat up, leaving the bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower. I probably smell bad.”

“Yeah. Okay… I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks.” Stan opened the door and left Kyle’s bedroom, his plate still on the floor. 

Kyle laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, with no plans to get up. He had a lot to think about.


	23. Boiling Pot

Trent Boyett was the first thing on his mind when he woke up.

Kyle trudged his feet through the halls that morning, brushed his teeth and ate breakfast like normal, all while assuring himself that Trent was behind the app. If Trent didn’t escape prison, his friends could’ve done it. Wasn’t it coincidental that the  _ one  _ phone number they picked was Stan’s? Why not his, or Cartman’s, or Kenny’s? That was because Trent had Stan’s phone number, and not any of theirs.

Visiting him in Denver County Prison without permission would be a breach of Stan’s trust. But how was he supposed to bring it up? He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice, like he did with Cartman.

He came back into the bedroom, reaching for his backpack.

“Kyle,” Stan mumbled, wiping away the eye crusts with his balled up fists. “How do you get up so early?”

“I don’t know. I have class. I’ll see you.”

“Okay..”

-

“Are you serious?!” Bebe exclaimed, her shoulders tensing. “No. No, Wendy, you have to be kidding me.”

“I know, it’s bad. But you have to tell me what to do.”

“Just bleach your entire body at this point! That’s disgusting!” she giggled, gently shoving Wendy back onto her pillows. “Garrison, and then  _ Cartman?  _ Have you ever been with a guy who isn’t ugly and sexist?”

Wendy shrugged, shaking her head and looking away.

Bebe sat up straighter, realizing she struck a chord without meaning to. “Okay, I’m sorry, I kinda can’t believe that, um… but if it’s true, you need to stop. You’re much better than some gross sixty year old pedophile. Respect yourself.”

“I did it to raise my grade in his class. I didn’t let him- put it in me, Bebe. It’s gross, but I wasn’t thinking, and I was so stressed out at the time,” she mumbled. “And Cartman, I mean, I don’t know anymore.”

“What?”

Wendy pulled the blanket over her legs. “We’re dating. I know you think that he’s a piece of shit, but he’s way different when he’s around me,” she said. “Well, used to be. I dunno.”

“So, not only did you agree to be his girlfriend, you’re still with him? I don’t know what you- the only solution is breaking up with him. That’s it.” Bebe was shocked by Wendy’s confession, and still half-expected her to come out and say it was a joke, but Wendy’s sense of humor was… not whatever this was. Had Cartman manipulated her  _ that bad?  _ Wasn’t Wendy supposed to be smart? Skeptical?

“He’s sweet, though. And he used to listen to me, and care about me.”

“So he doesn’t anymore,” Bebe confirmed.

“He doesn’t.”

Bebe adjusted herself on the bed, sitting up straighter, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Okay, then break up with him. It’s Cartman, Wendy, I don’t think it can be salvaged. I know you said his mom was murdered, but you can’t fix him. Only he can get better. With therapy.” She moved closer. “If he isn’t willing to see someone about it, you can’t force him.”

Discouraged, Bebe tried a different approach to get Wendy to open up. “What’s he doing now? You said he cared about you before, so he must be doing something to make you feel like he doesn’t.” Why wasn’t she responding? Did Wendy not want a realistic discussion of her issues? Did she bring it up so she could vent? 

Well, whether Bebe supported her romantic decisions or not, she knew, as her friend, that she needed to be there for her. She decided to be patient, or at least try.

“Well- he’s always fucking on his phone! I don’t know if he’s texting someone, or what, but he’s always distracted when I’m trying to talk to him… it kind of scares me, Bebe. We’ve never had sex, I don’t think we’re ever going to. But what if he dated me because he thought I- was easy?” she asked, her throat clenching up. “And when he realized I wasn’t going to fuck him, he stopped caring?”

“Wendy, you should talk to him about it. He might have something going on in his life.” A lie. Eric Cartman was totally cheating on her- all Bebe wanted to do was find that son of a bitch and sink her nails into his fat neck. She hadn’t known Wendy for long, but she  _ did  _ know how it felt to be cheated on, and Cartman deserved to be choked for other things too- when you went to the same school as him, you couldn’t help but hear stories.

“Yeah. Something else, just like Kyle said.” Wendy looked away, her face red. “He’s either behind the app or cheating. I don’t know which is worse. It’s not like he has fucking family stuff going on, his mom is dead and he doesn’t know his dad, he  _ has  _ no other friends, and he doesn’t like his uncle and aunt who raised him. He has nobody, so if he ever tries to write it off as family, I’ll… well, he has to be lying.”

“How do you know he didn’t make a friend from his classes or something? He could be on social media, just looking at memes. People cope differently.”

Wendy shrugged, refusing to meet Bebe’s gaze. Outside, the sun rose, and Bebe was unnerved by how silent the room was. Cars drove by on the interstate, but they were distant, and no birds landed on the trees, no squawking and chirping and flying from branches like they did in front of Bebe’s dorm. The land surrounding Wendy’s apartment was barren and desolate. 

Bebe then imagined her dream house. She’d hate to live on flat land without any vegetation or trees or critters, she wanted daisy pots hanging from the ceiling, fake vines crowding her walls, with pictures held below them by thumb tacks. And a garden, not enough to feed her, but enough for carrots and squash and cucumber, the stuff that’s easy to grow. 

After all of that, she wanted a girlfriend to live with her. They wouldn’t make enough to live in the city or anywhere nice, the economy humbled her childhood hopes of a mansion, but that was okay.

Her eyes glazed over Wendy. Wendy only talked about guys, so Bebe’s chances with her were slim. It was too soon to ask- Wendy and Cartman were still together. Wendy would need time to get over him.

But after that?

“Stop giving me that look,” Wendy snapped. “I know you’re right. I want to get over him and break up with him, but I can’t help but worry. Remember? He doesn’t have any family members or friends that are gonna keep him in check.” She put her head in her hands and grumbled to herself. “It’s like he’s a pot of fucking water. If I stop watching him, he’s gonna boil over and do something crazy and ruin his life.”

The comparison was spot on. Maybe Cartman was doomed to be a criminal or something, he had every textbook characteristic. “Do you want to watch this pot forever? You’ll just wear yourself out. It’s not your responsibility to baby him or guide him through life.”

“Okay. So he doesn’t love me,” Wendy confirmed to herself. “But what if I break up on- I mean, with him, and he has leverage on me? I’ve never sent him any nudes.”

“Wendy! Do you hear yourself right now? You’re dating somebody who you think is going to use leverage on you when you break up with him!” Bebe shouted, unable to rationalize with her- wasn’t it obvious by now? Cartman was not healthy. “If he has anything against you, he’ll use it if he wants. He knows about Garrison, but if he reveals everything, it’s gonna show that he doesn’t actually love you. And never has loved you.”

When Wendy started to sob, Bebe knew she had gone too far. Again.

Seven minutes of Bebe apologizing profusely and holding Wendy in her arms passed before she was able to sit up and rub her eyes. “You’re right, I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have even started with him.” She wiped her face again with the inside of her shirt. “You know what he said to me, a few weeks before we got together? He was-” she sniffled- “eating a bunch, and I said- I asked him why, or something, and he said that  _ he  _ was eating normally and that I had anorexia, because I was a white girl. But he’s the one with the eating disorder, we fucking went to a restaurant and as soon as we came back to Craig’s house, he was fucking stuffing his face with Cheez-Its. And I knew right then and there he was a shitty person, and he was delusional and unaware. Before, I never really knew… I had him in class, but I wondered if it was just a facade. So when he said that, I knew he was…”

“You’re not stupid,” Bebe whispered, shocked that Wendy still wanted her around. She figured she would get kicked out for saying stuff like that about Cartman, even if it was the truth. “He manipulated you. The whole situation is stupid. You felt bad for him, so you gave in and started talking to him, and he took advantage of that. You’re smart, Wendy. You just make mistakes, like everyone else.”

“Right,” Wendy whispered. She stared at something behind Bebe, squinting.

She stood up. “Be easier on yourself, okay? College is rough, but things aren’t as bad as they could be. You haven’t dropped out yet, and you still have an apartment and good grades. And you have friends who care about you. Cartman is a parasite. I think once he’s gone, you’ll feel a lot better.”

“Gone?” she asked. Wendy wasn’t necessarily startled by the word, but she continued squinting.

“Well, assuming you’re breaking up with him. Are you okay? You’re looking at me weird.”

She raised her hands to her cheeks, pressing them. “My eyes burn. And he won’t be gone. He’ll still be in our group every time we visit places for the app. I can’t get rid of him. If we stop talking to him, he’s gonna tell everyone everything. Not just about Garrison, like, everything that happened.” Wendy slid back to her pillows on the bed, pulling the striped blue comforter up to her chin and her legs up to her stomach, in fetal position. “And I’m on my stupid fucking period and it hurts and I can’t even talk to him about it today because I’ll start crying. Then he’ll think I  _ want  _ to be with him or something.” A short burst of tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn’t move or cry out.

Bebe understood. She left the room, and made a huge bowl of vanilla ice cream, topped with bananas and chocolate syrup for both of them. She brought Midol from the medicine cabinet, and they both sat down to watch something. There was nothing they wanted to talk about, and if they were going to do something, it had to be mind-numbing and sedentary.

Both of them devoured the bowl within minutes. The show they put on was surprisingly good. It only took them a few episodes to start talking to each other again, and once they were theorizing what would happen next, they forgot all about the emotional shit from earlier. Bebe knew to avoid talking about Cartman, but one of the characters reminded her of Kenny, and it kind of slipped from her mouth. “Benji looks like a hipster version of Kenny! But uglier and dumber.”

She instinctively looked to Wendy, who didn’t seem affected. “No. He looks nothing like Kenny, Kenny’s face is skinnier. You don’t think he’s hot, do you?”

“No, the- the other guy is way better. Joe.”

“Told you! I knew you’d come around to like him,” Wendy smiled, pulling her phone out. “Oh, yeah. Speaking of Kenny, do you think him and Craig are cute together? I think they are, they deserve each other, but I never get to talk to them anymore. They’re both super quiet. So it sucks that they’re together.” She opened a notification and sighed. “Like when I met you. They were here, but they left immediately.”

She hadn’t known Wendy, Craig, or Kenny for long, but she knew Craig the best of the three, and Wendy was right. He seldom spoke around other people, and when he did, it was to correct someone, ask for a favor, or give his opinion when he was explicitly asked. “He’s antisocial or whatever, I noticed that too.”

“Oh, no. That wouldn’t be antisocial, that would be schizoid. But I’m not worried about him. He’s not unhappy, he’s got Kenny.”

“Do you think he has other friends that he hangs out with?”

Wendy shrugged, looking down at her phone. “He’s-”

“Hm?”

She laughed. “That’s weird. He’s at Kyle and Stan’s.”

“So they’re hanging out,” Bebe said, grabbing the remote and pausing it. “I hope Kyle isn’t doing stuff behind your back again.”

Wendy tilted the screen towards Bebe. “No. It says Kyle is in the building, one of his law classes, so Craig isn’t talking to him. Stan is also in class. Surprising.”

“Oh, on  _ SnapMaps?  _ I guess it is weird.” No, it wasn’t. Craig was probably picking something up from their apartment, or waiting for them.. for some reason. “I didn’t know Kyle and Stan had an apartment together. That’s cute.”

“They don’t. It’s a student living complex thing. Cartman is there too, same floor as them, that’s how they met.” Wendy frowned. “Fuck. Craig is talking to Cartman.”

“He is?”

“Cartman has his location off, always. He says that somebody is gonna get him if he turns it on. I think Cartman might be behind the app. Kyle was probably right,” she murmured, dropping her phone and putting her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. “Ugh.”

_ Cartman’s fucking deluded,  _ she thought. Did Craig like Cartman? No, as far as she could remember, not really. So why were they talking? “Craig doesn’t have anything to do with the app, it doesn’t mean that Cartman does just because they’re meeting behind everyone’s back. It could be anything, Wendy, you don’t know.”

“I  _ do  _ fucking know, because Kyle’s smarter than me and he knows everything!” she screeched, her fingers pressed against her scalp, making her hair look spidery. “God,” Wendy sat up straight, flipping her hair back. “I’m going to confront them right now. I’m sick and fucking tired of Cartman and Kyle  _ doing shit  _ without us because they feel like it! It’s stupid! If we’re gonna fucking figure anything out, I already told them that we needed to be open about it, and I know I didn’t tell them stuff about Garrison, but I didn’t think it was related, I haven’t lied since, Bebe, I haven’t lied a single goddamn time to them!” she said through fresh tears.

_ So you weren’t lying to them when you said you weren’t with Cartman?  _ she said to herself, but it wasn’t the place or time to point it out. She had to figure out a way to keep Wendy in the apartment. “If- okay, listen, they could be, but if you go see them now, they’re gonna deny everything. You have to wait.”

Wendy was already out of bed, her pajama bottoms crumpled up on the floor, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans. “I have to set it straight, or they’re g-”

“You  _ can’t  _ make decisions right now, please,” Bebe pleaded, standing up. “If you want the truth, you have to wait. I know you want to do something. But it won’t work if you do this now, okay? They won’t trust you after this.” If Wendy intruded on them now, Craig would make  _ absolutely sure  _ to turn his location off and stop making careless mistakes in the future. If he was behind the app.

What were the chances of Craig being behind it and neglecting to turn his location off? 

Unlikely, Bebe decided. Craig was too smart to let that happen.

Frustrated, Wendy let her jeans drop down to her feet. “Yeah. You’re right,” she mumbled. “Sorry. I’m just so annoyed, Bebe. I can’t put up with them anymore.”

“I know.” She picked Wendy’s pajamas back up for her. “Stupid boys, huh.”

“Exactly. Stupid boys..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more bebe and wendy content oo


	24. doit

“Kahl,” Cartman inhaled, shaking him awake. “Kahl, get your ass in here.”

Kyle came back to the apartments for lunch and a nap after his criminology and real property classes every day. Cartman ruined a lot of things, so naturally, he had to ruin this too.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “ _ What?” _

Leading him out of his room, Cartman walked through the hallway. It didn’t smell good- not body odor or diarrhea, but the air had a light, coppery-smell. Like puke, or the room of a hernia surgery.

The scent grew stronger when he entered Cartman’s room, and when he looked around, he realized he had never really seen Cartman’s room before now. Pieces of furniture were toppled over, like the bookshelf next to his window, every textbook and piece of paper that Cartman owned now scattered on the floor. Streaming down the walls, layered thick on top of the posters of half-naked women and popular video games, was blood, spelling something that Kyle was too stunned to read.

In that moment, Kyle felt sorry for Cartman. Truly, truly sorry for him. Even if Cartman had done all of this himself, it proved just how mentally unstable he was. And if Cartman didn’t do this to himself? If Cartman was actually the victim, and not behind the app? That was even worse. Having everything he owned destroyed,  _ and  _ being accused of ruining it on purpose…

At the same time, the blood on the walls didn’t ease his suspicion of Cartman. And he didn’t have a clue of how to approach this.

Kyle entered the room, carefully stepping around Cartman’s ruined things, and stood against the wall opposite of the blood smears. He could only hope that this wasn’t human blood. Cartman didn’t seem like he was on that level. Yet.

In large, asymmetrical letters, the blood spelled out: “DOIT.” There was meant to be a space in the middle, so the words spelled “DO IT” instead of “DOIT.”

“Do what, Cartman?”

Cartman turned around, blinking. “I don’t know,  _ Kahl,  _ why don’t you tell me what you meant when you did all this? Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean you have to be dramatic.” His eyes were small and squinty. Interrogative.

“You think I smeared blood on your walls, while I was in  _ class  _ at the time, and washed my hands off and cleaned everything else up, and then went to take a fucking nap in my bedroom, Cartman?!” he almost screamed. “This was you!” He tried keeping his voice low, aware of other college students in the surrounding rooms. How nobody else noticed this was beyond him.

He glanced back at the wall, and was able to confirm that, yes, it was blood, because the edges of the letters were drying up. It had to be done within the past two days, and he wasn’t sure how often Cartman came into his room, but the whole thing was fucking risky. Whoever did it managed to surpass everyone else in the complex with buckets of blood, and cover Cartman’s walls while he was gone, with just enough time to leave? How? It was impossible. The complex only had about 90 students in total, but the halls and recreation rooms were bustling with activity during the day.

“Okay,  _ Kahl,”  _ he started, stepping around the fallen objects and moving closer to him. “If you didn’t do this, then who did?”

“You. Or the people behind the app. Fucking idiot,” Kyle snapped. “Take some pictures and call the police, but don’t touch anything, because they might have left fingerprints. The owner of this place should give you a refund or a new room,” he explained, glaring. “Assuming it wasn’t you.”

Something about Cartman’s face was telling Kyle that he  _ genuinely  _ thought it was him. 

But Cartman was a good actor. He knew that, so he kept his guard up.

-

As Kyle called the police in his own room, Cartman took pictures of the mess and the blood on his walls. He sent them to the group chat, sitting down on a toppled over dresser as he typed.

**_ieatpussy_509:_ ** _ Whoever did this (Kyal) fess up _

**_ieatpussy_509:_ ** _ For real. Whoever did this you need to come get on your hands and knees and start CLEANING!!!! _

**_ieatpussy_509:_ ** _ Lol Fuck you guys. Police are coming anyway. _

**_sparkys04:_ ** _ what the fuck _

Kyle got off the phone with the police and went back to Cartman’s room, yanking his forearm. “The police said to stay out of the room until they come. So get out.”

“My fuckin’ DNA is all over the room anyway, Jew!” he said, dropping his phone as Kyle pulled on him. He picked it back up, giving into Kyle and stepping into the hallway.

“Whatever. Just do what they say so they can finish the investigation.”

-

They questioned Cartman first, pulling him out of the building while the forensics team searched the hallways and room. Kyle sat on the cold, wooden stairs leading from the building, sliding his arms out of the sleeves and holding his jacket together with his hands from inside. It was nearly thirty-two degrees, way too cold to be sitting outside, but he wanted to hear Cartman’s answers anyway. What was his alibi, and his reasoning for thinking Kyle was behind it?

Turns out, Cartman was at a “friend’s” house. His name was Nathan, and Cartman gave the police his phone number to confirm. “Nathan” didn’t answer the call, but they saved his number and left a voicemail, in case he decided to pick up later.

Kyle’s turn.

The first few questions were boring, what’s your major, how are you paying for college, how do you know Cartman, etcetera. They asked where he was when “it happened,” and although he wasn’t sure when “it happened,” he told the police that he was either in class or taking an Uber home. Kyle gave them the name of his professor to prove it. He stuck around that day to ask questions, so there was no doubt his professor would confirm.

When they asked Kyle if he had any suspicions, he declined. Wendy, Stan, Kenny, Craig, Bebe… there was no reason to suspect them, and mentioning Randonautica was out of the question.

Maybe they could tie the DNA back to a random citizen or Trent Boyett, whoever did the blood, and the Randonautica thing could be over.

His phone pinged.

**_cuckers:_ ** _ Why the fuck did you call the police. _

**_cuckers:_ ** _ We have to deal with this on our own. _

**_floydthe-barber:_ ** _ Why not Craig _

Kyle muted his phone as they went on. The police seemed to trust him when he explained that the only reason Cartman suspected him was because he didn’t like him. For now, he was confident about the investigation.

Though Craig was right about needing to figure everything out themselves, the police could find forensic evidence, which

-

Five episodes deep into the show, Bebe’s phone exploded with notifications.

“Mute it! Whatever’s happening can wait, I wanna see what happens with Beck and Peach.”

Bebe grabbed her phone from the other side of the room. “Okay, fine. I don’t know why everyone’s texting me all of a sudden.” She muted it, looking back up at Wendy, who was still under the blankets, but in a considerably better mood. “You know all lesbians aren’t like that, right?”

“Of course I know all lesbians aren’t like that, I’m not homophobic. But this is finally getting good!”

Glancing down at her phone again, it was still lighting up with a million texts from Cartman, Stan, Craig, and Kenny (in that order). If the group chat was THIS active… well, she’d never seen so many notifications at once from them before, even though she was new to the group.

_ It can’t hurt to open it,  _ she told herself, unlocking her phone and scrolling.

“Wendy.”

Wendy threw the blanket off of her, stepping closer to Bebe. “What?”

“Craig- um…” she murmured, enlarging the pictures Cartman sent her. The blood, ripped up pages, tarnished furniture, everything. Could Craig have done that? Or was this a set-up? If someone had control of Stan’s phone, and could see through his front camera, they could have gained control of Craig’s phone, too. Altering his location on Snapchat was possible, but you had to have access to more than just Craig’s phone to make it happen- unless his phone was physically taken.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, closing the first picture to look at the rest. “He did this?”

She chewed on her lip, ripping the skin back. “I don’t know. Should we tell?”

Wendy sat down on the edge of her bed. “Well, Cartman said he was calling the police. If Craig really did this, I think they’ll find something. If not, we can wait. And see what happens.”


	25. Officer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before you continue with this chapter, read the updated tags!! (none are explored in this chapter yet)

**_tburgers:_ ** _ Hey Kyle, I saw what Cartman sent in the group chat a few days ago. _

**_tburgers:_ ** _ Are you busy? _

**_kyleb805:_ ** _ I’m not busy. _

**_tburgers:_ ** _ Are you alone? _

**_kyleb805:_ ** _ Yeah? _

**_tburgers:_ ** _ Good. Can we meet up? Only you. Stan can come if he wants. Don’t bring Cartman or anyone else. _

-

“So, what’s wrong?” Kyle asked, sitting down at the dining room table. Stan was asleep, and even if Kyle  _ wanted  _ to bring Cartman along, Wendy specifically instructed him not to, so he came alone.

Wendy and Bebe exchanged looks. “The blood. Cartman thinks you did it, but what actually happened?”

“Oh. Right. Well, I came home from class and ate. I took a nap, then Cartman woke me up and accused me.” He put his elbow on the table, supporting his neck with his hand. “That’s not the point. It’s someone from the app, and another person might be dead, because I don’t know where the blood is from.”

“You’re awfully calm, Kyle.”

“What?” he said, slouching forward in his chair. Wendy didn’t seem phased by the current events either. “I’m calm because nobody is in danger and weird shit like this happens all the time. It might not be human blood.”

She raised her hands above her shoulders. “Fine. Fine. But you’re acting like you’ve been through this before.”

“No I’m not!” Immediately, he knew it was a bad idea coming here. She was trying to spin everything on him, for  _ no reason…  _ just because he was asleep when it happened. “Are you saying it’s me? Where else am I supposed to go after class? I live there, Wendy, just like Cartman and Stan.”

Bebe, concerned, leaned closer to Wendy. She gave her another look. Wendy seemed to understand, fixing her hair and scooting closer to the table. “How did the person get into the building? Isn’t there some kind of code you have to enter? Or a key?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So it’s one of you three that did it.”

“ _ Or,  _ it’s not, and someone is missing a key. Seriously, Wendy. Cartman might’ve done this himself, but why? And aren’t you in love with him or whatever? I don’t know why y-”

Wendy cringed. “Not anymore. Listen, Kyle, don’t tell  _ anyone  _ about this conversation, okay? Nothing I said needs to get out. Tell Stan, but make sure he knows to keep it a secret.”

“ _ What? _ ” Kyle hissed. What was the point of coming if Wendy was just going to accuse him of destroying Cartman’s room?

“Craig was at the building today. Wendy saw it,” Bebe spoke up.

Kyle was in disbelief. If anyone was suspicious here, it was Wendy, not himself or Craig. “Bullshit.”

“He was!” Bebe shouted, her voice high and exasperated. “She was on her phone, and pulled SnapMaps up, and his stupid icon was there. I don’t know how long he’d been there, but we figured he was hanging out with you or Stan, so we didn’t say anything. But my phone started blowing up. We knew it had to be him then.”

Everything fell into place as Bebe explained. Wendy wasn’t  _ physically  _ at the complex, but she saw Craig’s character on Snapchat over the building, which made him a suspect… “Why wouldn’t he turn it off if he was doing something he didn’t want us to know about?” Whether Craig was in the building with buckets of blood or not, someone had to give him a key or have one made for him, but that didn’t mean it was him or Stan.

But then it hit him- someone else left the door unlocked. There was no extra key.

_ Idiot. _

He thought of the people in his complex. There were two floors full of people he didn’t know personally, and having cameras in the building was an obstruction of privacy, so there was no telling who left the door open. Kyle was sure there was a camera somewhere down the street, maybe near a bank, but he doubted the footage would help.

He decided to ask around once he got home.

“Either he forgot, it was an accident, or someone from the app placed his location there to turn us against him. I don’t think it’s that, because it said his location was set, like, thirty minutes ago at the time. If the people from the app were doing it, it would say like, two minutes,” Bebe explained. “Well, I dunno. Maybe not,” she backtracked, frowning. “He wasn’t there grabbing anything? Like, a jacket, or notes, or-”

“Nope. Cartman wasn’t there. Well, that’s what he says,” Kyle muttered. He wondered just  _ where  _ Cartman was- he said he was with “Nathan,” but he didn’t know if that was true, or how  _ long  _ they were together, or what they were doing. For all he knew, Cartman could’ve been out of town. Or had someone go into his room and smear the blood around  _ for him.  _ The lines in Kyle’s face deepened in thought. “Stan left for class after I woke up that day. He never goes to class, so I’m kinda glad he decided to.”

“And you’re sure he didn’t do it?”

“Well, no, but he has-”

Bebe inhaled. “Kyle, I know it’s hard for you to be suspicious of him, but we have to consider everyone. Do you think there’s a reason he decided to wake up early today?”

Kyle wasn’t sure. Stan never mentioned a test- whenever Stan had a test in class, Kyle would take extra time to study with him and reassure him before he left. He hated lectures, though, and now that Stan was questioning his major again, he gave up on classes. “Bebe, I really doubt it’s him,” he spoke, even though the evidence lined up against Stan. For one, Stan didn’t have a location- but that didn’t matter, because neither did he, and neither did Bebe. Did Bebe even count? She wasn’t included in the original six. Or four.

Bebe’s nails glistened from the rays streaming through the window. “It’s unlikely. But it’s too weird to be a coincidence. We have to accept the fact that Craig and Stan could both be in this. And don’t you think it’s funny how  _ he  _ told you guys about the app? His phone is the only tapped one between us seven. He hasn’t had any trauma brought up like Cartman and Wendy and Craig have. He’s got to have something to do with this.” Bebe brushed her hair out of her face, running her fingers through a strand to untangle it. “Maybe Craig didn’t even care about Tweek. Maybe he  _ wasn’t  _ dating him, and he just chose some guy from his class that died, and made a whole sob story after putting those flowers on the grave!”

Kyle was speechless. Had Wendy _already_ filled her in on everything? How did she know about the flowers? The outburst, framing Craig without any evidence or screenshot from SnapMaps… it was too specific. Like she formulated all of this in her mind as Wendy explained it to her. And he had to pretend that he believed the theory, to get her off of his back. Bebe could be behind this whole thing, too- Craig was the one who brought her to the group. Why would she be so ready to throw him under the bus?

What she didn’t know about, however, was Stan’s trauma. He might not have had a location, but Stan wouldn’t bring Trent Boyett up if he didn’t think Trent was a genuine suspect.

“You’re right,” he lied. “I think a lot of this… it makes sense. Especially if they’re working together. They could’ve helped each other with the stories.”

His attention fell on Wendy, who was watching him with an iron gaze. “You were there. You saw how Craig reacted to the Tweek thing.”

“Wendy… some people are good actors. Especially him, he’s so good at keeping his emoti-”

“And you think it’s  _ Stan?  _ Of all people? You’re the closest to him! Aren’t you supposed to be defending him?” she quizzed, her arms folded tightly against her chest. “I don’t get why you’re so eager to agree with Bebe. I don’t think it’s you, Kyle, but only because you went to see Cartman’s uncle. That’s the only reason.”

Jeez… both were giving such mixed signals. How was he supposed to act here?

_ They’re playing good cop bad cop,  _ he realized. But why?

He stood up. “Bebe literally just explained why it’s probably Craig and Stan. I believe her. Not 100%, but I believe her, even if Stan is my best friend.” Kyle pushed the chair back in. “I have to go now, I’m gonna catch up with Cartman and see where Stan is at-”

“Don’t bring this up to either of them. Okay? Please?”

One second Wendy is yelling at him, and the next, everything is okay. 

_ Do they want Stan to know or not?  _ he wondered. Bebe and Wendy had trapped him in a corner. Craig and Stan were suspicious, but… Wendy and Bebe weren’t any better. And he wasn’t ready to pick a side just yet.

“I won’t.”

He strode across the living room, pulling the front door open and stepping outside, pressing his jacket over his nose to brace for the cold.

The only person he felt sure about right now was Cartman. His body language said a million words, and he was almost sure that he wasn’t behind the app. Maybe the blood, but not the app.

-

Kyle had no time to sit in the parking lot and absorb what happened with Wendy and Bebe, because when he pulled in, a policeman was settled at the front door, waiting. He shut off the engine and got out, hoping the officer could tell him about retrieved DNA or blood tests.

“Mr. Broflovski?”

“Yes?” he asked. The police officer he was speaking to was shorter than him, and seemed bald. As he stepped closer, though, he could see that the officer had light, buzzed ginger hair. Not bald, just unfortunate. The lightly scattered freckles around his cheeks and nose made him resemble a high-schooler.

His small, squinty eyes shifted, and he offered his hand for Kyle to shake. “I’m Officer Hopkins. I couldn’t contact Eric Cartman, and I didn’t have anyone’s number, so I waited. Do you have his contact information?”

_ Well, I have his Snapchat,  _ he thought to himself. “No, I don’t have his phone number. Sorry.”

“Okay.” The officer crossed his arms and looked at something in the distance, and then back at Kyle. “Do you think you could tell him to give me a call?”

Would Cartman tell him the information if he asked about it? Probably not, and if he called Officer Hopkins himself, he would recognize his voice, and refuse to give him the information. “I can.” There had to be another way.

The man gave Kyle his number, and Kyle stored it away in his notes app. In an attempt to get more information out of him, he started the small talk- which the officer didn’t seem to like- and as he spoke, he continued observing him. Though it was blistering cold outside, and Kyle was  _ dying  _ to take a hot shower or sink underneath his blankets, the officer didn’t look cold whatsoever, and was only wearing his long-sleeved uniform. He didn’t look fat or muscular, but had a lot of girth around his arms and legs, some kind of superhuman insulation that kept him from shivering in twenty-degree weather. “It’s still ongoing,” Officer Hopkins explained after Kyle’s rambling. He wasn’t uncomfortable, but instead, stiff, as if the conversation was slowly draining him.

Kyle nodded in understanding. “Well, have they found any DNA? Or do they know who the blood belongs to?”

“They have found DNA. They can’t match it without samples.”

“And the blood?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

Kyle chewed his lip. So he  _ knew,  _ but other officers told him to keep it a secret. “Can you tell me if it’s human blood, at least? A guy on my floor is scared to death. He has trouble sleeping now, especially after the whole Garrison thing,” Kyle lied. 

“Lab results show that the size of the red blood cells are similar to that of a human.”

His throat closed up. “So-”

“Might not be a human. It just looks like human blood so far.”

His words came out scratchy. “Well, if it  _ looks  _ like human blood, how could it be anything else?”

“Monkey blood, pig blood, any non cold-blooded animal. If it’s not human blood, it’s probably livestock.”

“Oh,” he spoke. How had he not known that before? Science was one of his best subjects growing up.. “Can, um… this might be asking too much of you, but if you find anything else out, is it possible that you can tell me? Cartman is a compulsive liar. He could’ve done this himself, so I can’t rely on him to- tell me stuff.”

Officer Hopkins shifted his weight to one foot, tilting his head as he stared up at Kyle. Almost as if he were trying him. “Yeah? What makes you think that?” Instead of a uniformed, trained police officer, he sounded like a teenage boy in a playground, threatening to give him a swirly. 

Kyle wasn’t scared. Officer Hopkins seemed reasonable, and he probably interrogated criminals this way. “He just had a lot of trauma growing up. Killing small animals and stuff.”

The officer nodded. “Any other reason you think it’s him? Did he say anything to you?”

“No. But he can be a bit of a drama queen sometimes.” Kyle lowered his voice. “I don’t think he would kill someone and then do this.”

“Lots of people think that, you know.”

“What?”

“People think their family members and friends would never kill anyone. And some people go their whole lives thinking  _ they’ll  _ never kill anyone. Until it happens,” Hopkins explained, his arms crossed. “There are no monsters on Earth. Only circumstances.”

Something about the way Officer Hopkins spoke chilled him to the core. Words like that were oddly omniscient coming from a man who looked fresh out of high school and was still coming down from puberty.. but the feeling he gave off just screamed ‘looks-suspicious-but-is-innocent,’ if that made sense. “Oh,” he mumbled. “You might be right. Most serial killers are abused as children, aren’t they?”

“Yup,” he said, letting his arms fall down to his sides. “Anything else I can help you with today?”

And just like that, the conversation was over. “Thank you. But, uh- yes, actually. I already asked, but is there any way you could…?”

“Give you information on the case? Maybe. Only stuff that can be approved for the public. Maybe extra if you’re willing to pay and keep it a secret.” Officer Hopkins’ face was as cold and untelling as always.

A smile spread across his lips. Even if he had to fork over some money, he could get  _ answers.  _ Finally.

Just as Kyle gave Officer Hopkins his phone number, a car pulled up in the driveway, a sweaty, out-of-breath Cartman tumbling out of it. “What are you doing, Jew? He’s not gonna tell you anything.”

Officer Hopkins put his phone away, facing Cartman. They were around the same height, though Cartman was infinitely heavier. “Eric Cartman. I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“Is there any DNA that we might find in your bedroom that doesn’t belong to you?”

His face scrunched up. “What?”

“To identify unusual DNA, we need to know who you bring into your bedroom. Friends, girlfriends, stuff like that,” Officer Hopkins explained. He gave Kyle a look that said  _ go away,  _ but Cartman didn’t seem to care that he was watching, so Kyle stayed put.

“Wen-dee.”

“Wendy Testaburger?”

“Yeah,” he said smugly, as if he actually got in her pants.

Officer Hopkins pulled a folded piece of paper from his pants. “And?” he asked, writing her first and last name down- incorrectly. He spelled it  _ Testebuger,  _ and Kyle stifled a laugh. He didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“That’s all. The other girls, well, I go to  _ their  _ house.”

The officer didn’t seem to care. “We’re disregarding any DNA on your dirty clothes.”

“...Okay.”

“We need to know what you were doing and who you were with while your room was being vandalized.”

Cartman frowned. “That’s private information. And I already told yew. I was with Nathan.”

“I called ‘Nathan,’ and he didn’t pick up. In case he doesn’t answer, we need to know what you were doing, and where.” He was visibly irritated, but aside from implying that Nathan wasn’t real, his voice didn’t show it at all.

“Well, I was with Butters, too! I dunno why that ass-hole doesn’t pick up, he’s fuckin’ stupid, probably thinks you’re a telemarketer because he’s too retarded to listen to it!”

Hopkins rolled his eyes. “Does Butters have a phone number?”

“I’ll call him right fuckin’ now.” While Cartman pulled his phone out, Officer Hopkins gave him another look, and he took this as his signal to leave. Slowly, he ascended the stairs, his eyes lingering on Cartman and Officer Hopkins. To his surprise, someone picked up.

_ So he does have an alibi,  _ Kyle thought to himself, his fingertips tracing the wooden rail.  _ Something was telling me Cartman didn’t do this. And I was right. _


	26. Nathan

When Stan entered the living room, Cartman was on the couch, his arms folded. Loud, accusing Mexican accents came from the TV. “Hey,” he said wearily, sitting down next to him. “How are you doing?” His day of classes hadn’t gone well- lots of stress about the app, about his future career, and lots of crying- but maybe Cartman could tell him something to put his mind at ease.

“Fine. I have to put shit in my stupid new room, though, and I know Kyle won’t help me.” He looked exhausted, but he didn’t say he actually moved his furniture yet, though. His forehead was caked with dried-up sweat, and Stan would’ve been disgusted if there weren’t a few times in high school when he didn’t shower after football practice either.

“He said no?”

“I don’t need to ask. He won’t.” Cartman stood up. “But you will, right?”

“Um, sure, if you’ll tell me what’s up.” Stan followed him down the hallway and back into the parking lot, where his Honda sat. In the back seat, there were two cardboard boxes with pictures on the front. One of them was a bed frame, the other was a desk. 

Cartman picked up one end of the long, rectangular box in front, pulling it halfway out of the car. Stan grabbed the other side, and they took it upstairs.

-

“I don’t have my stew-pid mattress yet, the faggot officer said that they need it for _evidence._ Evidence of what? The fact I get more pussy than him? It’s stew-pid, Stan. I have to buy all this shit again, they gave me a new room, but I don’t get any of my stuff back. I had a list that I asked for, but Officer _Hop-keens_ won’t give me half of it because _evidence._ There wasn’t any blood on it! Just the stuff on the wall, and I can buy those posters again… Nathan is gonna stop by with a mattress for me. You have to help him take it upstairs. He’s a pussy bitch, his muscles are too weak.”

“And you can’t help him?” Stan asked, tightening the screw. Thankfully, his dad taught him how to put furniture together in middle school, but the instructions helped too.

Cartman almost looked offended. “I’ll be _busy._ ”

“Whatever.” He tilted the board upright, gripping the screwdriver.

Kyle entered the room unannounced. He stood near the unopened bed frame, watching as Cartman held the boards in place for Stan.

“This is a Jew-free zone.”

“Shut up. What did that officer tell you?” he asked, staring down at them.

Cartman’s cheeks flared. “Bunch of fuckin’ lies. That’s what.”

“He lied to you?” Kyle asked, standing up straighter. “What did he lie to you about?”

“‘Bout how they don’t know whose blood it is, and yada yada ya. If it’s human blood, can’t they just _test_ it? It’s not that hard! Everyone fuckin’ lies to me, even my own friends.” He nodded to himself. “But you know who lies the most? The _government._ You don’t trust a thing they say, Kahl. Never. They’re putting little kids on hormones, that’s why all the kids are transginger now. ‘Cause they’re confused. And they gave a bunch of foster kids AIDS! You remember that, right, Kahl?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t alive when that happened, and they’re not making kids transgender. How are we lying to you?”

“When did I say that?”

“You said your friends lie to you? All the time?”

Cartman smiled. “We’re not friends, Kahl, sorry, not interested in you.”

“That’s funny. He thinks he has friends,” Stan said. “Flip the pieces, I need to tighten the screws on the other side, it’s still wobbling.”

“I do have friends. They’re just full‘a shit.”

“Why are you helping him, Stan?” Kyle asked, moving closer to their spot on the floor.

Stan… well, he actually wasn’t sure. It’s not like Cartman was telling him anything useful. “I dunno. What else should I do?”

“Cartman.”

Cartman let go of the two pieces- they were now stable enough to stand on their own, and Stan didn’t need his help to finish the rest of the desk. “What?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh?” he asked, standing up.

“I don’t believe that you have other friends. Even the officer said that Nathan wasn’t answering his phone, and Butters sounds like a super made-up name. You probably just paid someone to answer the phone. So whenever _Nathan_ gets here, I want to see him.” Though Kyle was convinced that Cartman was in the clear just a few hours ago, he wanted to make absolute sure that these people were real. 

_Butters…_ Stan recognized that name. “Wait, no, Kyle. I don’t think he’s lying,” he spoke. But where was the name from?

“Oh? Why?”

“I remember seeing it somewhere. I think… okay, do you remember when that- the person from the app was texting me? And I gave my phone to you?” Stan asked, trying to remember the names of the other contacts. All he could recall was Wendy, and Butters, and a Scott Faggotman, but he was sure there were others…

Kyle’s eyes brightened. “You looked through his phone?”

“Yeah. And I saw- Butters. As a contact. So Butters might be real.”

“..Fair enough.” Kyle’s crossed arms loosened, and he took his phone from his back pocket, typing something out. “So what were you doing with Nathan and Butters when you were with them?”

Cartman frowned. “Just hanging out.”

“Really?” Kyle asked, his eyes fixed on his phone, like he was waiting for something to happen.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Kyle read something on the screen, then put his phone away. “Someone text me whenever ‘Nathan’ gets here. I want to see him.”

Stan looked up from the planks of wood and screws. “I will. Don’t worry.”

“I’m gonna finish my essay. Nobody talk to me unless Nathan is here.”

Kyle had never spoken to Stan that way, his demeanor suddenly stifled and strict, so he knew Kyle meant it. “Alright, dude. Jeez.”

Kyle left the bedroom, casting one long final glance at Cartman. A warning glare. 

Shaking his head, he turned the planks of wood over, realigning the drill holes.

-

His arms crossed tightly against his stomach, Kyle stared out of the window. “So Nathan is real? Why didn’t he answer the police’s phone calls?”

Outside, a short, large-headed manchild let down the tailgate of his truck, allowing Cartman to hop up and get the mattress. He slid it halfway off of the tailgate, before turning around to look at the building. Cartman said something, and Nathan replied, but the issue didn’t look resolved.

“I guess he is real. Maybe Cartman isn’t doing this.”

“I knew Cartman wasn’t doing the locations. It just wasn’t possible. He didn’t do the blood, either, I can tell from the way he’s acting.”

Stan frowned. “Then why are you still accusing him?”

“He might know something we don’t. And I wanted to see if Nathan was real, because part of me doubted it. But I guess he’s real.” Kyle let his arms drop down to his side. “Go help Cartman. His fat ass is going to run out of breath before he gets to the doorway.”

“Whatever.” Stan left the bedroom, running downstairs to help Cartman with the mattress. They rotated it through the corners in the hallways, before leaning it against the wall in Cartman’s new room. Stupidly, Cartman insisted they had to put the desk together first, instead of the bed frame, and Stan agreed because he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Now Cartman couldn’t put the mattress down until the bed frame was finished.

Kyle’s eyes were glued to the truck as it drove away. He memorized the license plate.

-

“He actually responded to the name,” Stan told him, moving aside to let Kyle lay with him on the bed. A fragrant candle and the dusk sky provided the only light in Stan’s room. “Maybe they aren’t friends, but they know each other somehow.”

Kyle nodded, pulling the blanket to his chin. He agreed to sleep in Stan’s bedroom under the condition that Stan would change and wash his sheets, and Stan obliged. He was bad at keeping his room clean anyway. “Don’t you think it’s weird that, _suddenly,_ Cartman has two friends? I don’t think it’s him, but I think he’s keeping something from us. Like, as soon as there’s a chance of him getting in deep shit with the police, he has an alibi and two new people to back him up.” Kyle shook his head, pulling his phone from his pockets. He opened Snapchat.

“I still think it’s him,” Stan admitted.

 **_kyleb805:_ ** _Hey Wendy. Just wanted to let you know that Cartman brought a guy over today, he gave him a mattress. He has a real human alibi. Surprising._

 **_tburgers:_ ** _Good to know. What’s his name?_

 **_kyleb805:_ ** _Stan confirmed that it is Nathan._

 **_tburgers:_ ** _NATHAN??? Omg_

 **_tburgers:_ ** _This is BEbe but did u see him??? What did he look like bc I think I might know him_

 **_kyleb805:_ ** _Large head, drives a black truck. Strange gait, his head was tilted up the whole time. He has brown hair._

 **_tburgers:_ ** _I know him! He’s in one of my classes lol_

 **_tburgers:_ ** _At least we know he’s not some 40 year old creep and he actually goes to our college so it’s possible Cartman might know him!!_

 **_tburgers:_ ** _Thank u for telling us Kyle!!! Ur the best :)_

 **_kyleb805:_ ** _Of course._

“Who are you texting?”

“Wendy and Bebe. I told them about Nathan, I thought they might like to know. Wendy said she isn’t really, uh. In love with Cartman anymore. So.” He knew Wendy told him to keep the conversation a secret, but it was just a small detail, and it wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it would keep Stan from prying.

Stan fumbled with his blankets. “Okay.”

“Did you shower today?”

“Earlier. I think.”

“Good.” Kyle set his phone on the dresser. “And you ate?”

Stan’s face turned sour. “I ate. Dude. I think I’m, uh. Uh. Bi?”

Kyle’s heart raced. “What? Really?” he asked, smiling up at him. “That’s cool. I’m glad you decided to tell me.”

“...Yeah. But I’m not into guys that much, so you don’t have to be, like, worried or anything, okay?”

“Even if you were gay, it would be fine.” It was clear Stan still had negative emotions surrounding his sexuality, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. “You can be honest with me, okay? I’d never hate you. I might be annoyed sometimes, though,” he admitted.

“Hm. I liked Wendy, I can’t be gay.”

“Alright.” 

“Goodnight, dude,” Stan said.

Kyle put his arm under his pillow and closed his eyes. “Sleep well.”

-

Without meaning to, Wendy and Bebe spent the entire day with each other. They had an accidental “slumber party” the day Cartman’s room was vandalized, and another one today.

For breakfast, they went to a diner, before going back to Wendy’s and finishing the last few episodes of their new favorite TV show. The last episode was titled _Bluebeard’s Castle,_ where Joe, the main character, murders Beck, the main love interest. Bebe and Wendy stared at the TV, shocked and angry, before deciding to give the show a break and go eat.

For lunch, they packed ham and cheese sandwiches, some chips, and oranges. Even though it was cold, Wendy wanted to eat somewhere outside of her stuffy apartment, so they drove to a secluded area on campus, somewhere Wendy used to write her papers before it started snowing. They ate in the car, throwing their orange peels and sandwich crusts in a Wal-Mart bag, talking about the show and making fun of the characters, wondering if Joe would get caught in the next season.

There was no dinner; they ate popcorn as season two started, and ice cream when their stomachs weren’t satisfied.

And when they came down from their sugar high, they decided it was time to lay down. Secure underneath Wendy’s comforter, they talked about anything but the app. College, IT, psychology, the show, politics- it was the last thing on their mind, until Wendy’s phone chirped, and she turned around to get it.

-

“So you know Nathan? Does he seem like someone Cartman would be friends with?” she asked after Bebe took her phone to message Kyle.

Bebe nodded, turning Wendy’s phone off and setting it down. “They’re both outcasts, if that makes sense. Nathan is super smart, he’s one of the top in my coding class, but he has some kind of… disability? I know he has a speech impediment.”

“Cartman hates disabled people though.”

“True,” Bebe spoke. “There’s another guy he hangs out with. Um, his name is Mimsy, and he has an intellectual disability, but he’s not actually in the class. He just does stuff for Nathan. Like carry his bags and drive him around. It’s weird. They’re not related, so.. he’s taking advantage of him, isn’t he?”

Wendy didn’t look convinced. “Mimsy? That can’t be a real name.”

“Maybe not,” she bit her lip. “I don’t know how old Mimsy is, and I’ve never talked to Nathan about anything that wasn’t related to classwork, so I can’t say I know much about him.” Bebe paused, fixating on Wendy’s smooth, yet concerned face. “Should I talk to him? Just in a friendly way? See what I can gather?”

“Sure,” she agreed. “If you think it might be useful. Come up with a reason to suddenly start talking to him, though. Or he’ll get suspicious. I don’t think he’s behind the app if Cartman isn’t.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “So… do you think Joe is going to get caught? Because I don’t think Nicky will stay in prison, even if he thinks he deserves it. And the jar of urine in Peach’s house?”

Wendy smiled. “Not sure. They won’t test the urine, if they do, it’ll have to be in season three or something. But that was a long time ago. Do you think he deserves Love? She seems too innocent for him. And her backstory, that was really sad, I didn’t expect it...”

“I know, right?” Bebe giggled. “I hope he doesn’t kill her too! Unless Candace comes back and warns her.”

They talked until they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to read through all 54k words of this fic last night JUST to find out if stan had come out already lol
> 
> also thank you for 100 kudos!!


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